Love, Life, Louisiana
by Dedicated follower
Summary: Edward was the love of my life? I knew it, so why had he left me? What had happened to make him reject me? After fifteen years of a joyless marriage, I was determined to leave London for Louisiana to find out. Lighthearted froth! Not action packed! more l
1. Leap without Looking

I left my husband by accident.

Not left as in 'left at home, whilst I run out to do some errands' but left as in 'if I ever again have to pretend not to notice whilst you pretend not to be picking your teeth with a pen, I will not be responsible for my actions and therefore I am deserting you before anything horrendous happens.'

I hadn't planned to go.

For goodness sakes, I had just spent three days planting bulbs for next spring. I had drawers full of half-finished needlepoint projects. Well someone else could enjoy them. I would like to say that I spent hours explaining my decisions to Toby, my husband of fifteen years. God knows that he deserved some kind of explanation. But I didn't. I packed a bag containing a random collection of underwear, my favourite ball dress, books and my teddy. No coat, no winter clothes. With hindsight, I could have been more organized but I just wanted to go.

There was nothing intrinsically wrong with Toby. He was a decent man. The kind of person who is always referred to as 'a good bloke.' He went to work, came home, picked his teeth, went to bed. I was so bored that I spent hours contemplating life as a widow. I would be suitably depressed for a decent interval before morphing into a devastating and dangerously attractive man-magnet. Every now and again I caught myself half way through this fantasy and was disgusted at myself. Wishing the poor man an early death? Who knew that indifference could be as corrosive as hatred?

And so I left. I walked out one day in the violet hour between getting home from work but before the tedium of the evening set in. I took my bag and went. And there my plan fell apart. Standing on the corner of the street, I didn't have a clue where to go. A taxi went past. I got in it and thus ended up at the airport Hilton. Why there? I suppose that all those years of watching glamorous people get into cars and say 'take me to the Hilton' must have left a mark on me. I didn't recall any of them being a hollow shell of a soon-to-be divorcee who would sit on a Hilton bed and contemplate the wall for three days. That vignette wouldn't have been quite as enticing to the upwardly mobile traveller.

I sat. I thought. Sometimes I paced the room for a bit of variety. Finally, I wrote a letter to Toby. Terribly old-fashioned but letters have the fabulous benefit of the recipient being unable to answer back immediately. Toby was a solid man. Somewhere, there was a solid woman who would value him. I was not that woman. The problem was, he wasn't Edward.

Edward had been, was, the love of my life. I had worshipped the ground he walked on. He was devastatingly handsome with a strong, mobile face and sparking green eyes that seemed always to be contemplating his next adventure. Fiercely intelligent, he had the unfair genetic benefit of perfect co-ordination which he put to dazzling effect on the polo field. Miraculously, for almost two years he had been mine. And then, one day, he wasn't.

I hadn't noticed the changes. Actually, even with hindsight I couldn't pinpoint when he stopped loving me. We were up in Scotland for the New Year and I was shivering behind him as he picked off pheasants with his father's gun.

"I saw you dancing last night" he said (BANG) "you looked so happy' (BANG) "I can never make you that happy" (BANG) "We need to break up." Bang…

In a minute, I lost Edward. The pheasants were better off. At least their suffering was short.

Even at this distance, I didn't know why he had left me. Had I changed? Possibly. I spent far too much time pretending to be a wife. I washed his shirts (badly) and ironed his clothes (the burn marks provided a topic of conversation for weeks). On the plus side, I could cook. And I did. Dinner parties, drinks parties, picnics… I was a one-woman catering company. My flat heaved with gently rotting bottled fruit. I hated peaches in syrup, yet had spent a whole weekend canning the wretched things after Edward waxed lyrical about peach pie. Apparently it was a 'Southern Thing'. Oh yes. I hadn't mentioned that. He was from Louisiana. Not New Orleans but deepest, darkest country Louisiana. He had an accent which made me go weak at the knees and an incredible lust for life. His equal devotion to God, women and killing things made the London boys look like the milksops they were. A perfect man in my eyes…

Worst of all, when I lost Edward, I lost his friends. They had all come over to London together. Jasper whose insouciance made life seem like a smooth river of joy. I hadn't realised that this was part of his act, his way of coping until I caught him one evening with a look of such inexpressible misery on his face that I wanted to wrap him up and save him from the world. Emmet was the opposite, shallow as a summer pool and just as wonderful to be around. Always full of plans and schemes which would invariably end badly, he was a force of nature. There were always girls, 'the group', but no one permanent. I am ashamed to say that I gloried in being the Girlfriend as opposed to the companion of the moment. Hubris. Serves me right.

I became a shell of myself. I ran over reasons why Edward had gone. Was I too loud? Too opinionated? I shrank into silence. Not successful or shiny like the parade of girls through the flat? I threw myself into my career. I found to my surprise that I was good at selling and ended up in the City. And there I met Toby, who was kind to me. It should have been enough but it wasn't.

And now here I was, alone in the Hilton. Time to think.

I had surreptitiously tracked Edward for years. I knew that he had moved back to Louisiana. I saw his picture in the Times Picayune, always 'sharing a joke' with a devastating brunette, or blonde, or red-head. Jasper popped up too, as did Emmett. So they had all gone home. Gazing out at the thin grey rain streaming down the double glazing of the window, I couldn't say I blamed them.

I had to face it, I had never moved on. I had accepted Toby because I had given up. I wasn't good enough for the person I wanted so I had accepted second best. I had always felt that I was a failure. A hundred self-help books told me that it wasn't so and yet, deep within me, I knew that it was true. I needed to know what was wrong with me and then maybe I could work out what to do next.

And that is why, on a rainy afternoon in the Heathrow Hilton, I decided to either close the chapter or rewrite it. I was going to Louisiana.


	2. Act in Haste

**Author's Note: Oh my goodness people are reading this! So that you know... all the characters are in their mid/late thirties. King's College is part of the University of London (hurrah!) Thank you so much for all the WONDERFUL comments. Your kindness warms my heart.**

"Act in haste, repent at leisure" was one of my Grandmother's favourite sayings. Mind you, she had a store of random Irish sayings including "carry on with the coffin for the corpse won't walk" and "kind words butter no parsnips" which usually resulted in stunned silence but stopped whatever argument was raging at the time. We had always suspected her of getting them from a calendar.

I thought of her now as I fired off an unrepentant e-mail to my long suffering manager starting with "I regret to inform you…" and ending with "therefore I will be taking indefinite leave." The bonus of having months' worth of accumulated holiday. I always knew that being a workaholic would pay off. Actually I didn't but I had no life and work filled a void. Only thing that was being filled I thought sourly (and possibly a tad vulgarly.) The only physical contact I had had for years was when I went for a sporadic manicure. Hardly likely to set the heather blazing…

Impressed Granny certainly wouldn't be. Maybe if I'd followed her advice a bit more closely, I wouldn't be in the mess I was in now. Not the advice about the parsnips clearly but the part about "all men are children, you need to be patient." I paused. Maybe that had worked when women had no options and were tied to the kitchen sink barefoot and pregnant but now? Actually, my Grandmother was the least feeble person I had ever encountered and had raised a generation of equally terrifying women. Maybe she had chosen to expend her energy on her family rather than trying to fight the equality battle at home? Surely this approach to marriage wasn't crediting the man with much sense? Would this have worked with Edward? If I'd been more docile, would he have stayed around? My God, I had only left Toby for five minutes and I was already forgetting his existence. I was a shallow, shallow person.

Leaning back in the Hilton business centre, it crossed my mind that I was bloody lucky. I was solvent, childless and had all my own teeth. Actually the latter was the luckiest of the lot given that I had spent a lot of my childhood being bribed to go to Mass with the promise of Bullseyes to follow. I associated the joys of religion with the sucking of boiled mints. I did move on from that viewpoint but, if I am being honest, not for a good long while. And praise the pigs that I had because without church, there would have been no Edward.

I had first set eyes on Edward at Mass. Seriously. Who meets the man of their dreams in church? We were choking in the normal cloud of incense when I spotted him. His hair had caught the beams of light coming through the stained glass windows and he was illuminated. Literally.

In my Sunday morning semi-hungover state I thought I had inadvertently woken up in a dream. You know, the one where the man is a shining knight, lighting up the world around him before sweeping you off on his white charger (ahem). "Jesus" I hissed, earning myself a sharp stare from the old bag next to me. I swiftly pretended to be praying. After all, if you can't say the Lord's name in a church, where can you? Miss Pious, that's me.

I did a swift inventory; my dress was pretty decent and hid the bits which weren't fit for show, I knew that my skin was (for once) not too grim and my habit of wearing a veil hid my hair which was in its usual 'pulled through a hedge backwards' condition. Dilemma. How on earth do you pick up a man in Church? Probably a sin of some kind. Edward solved the challenge himself by lurking outside the door and leaping out from behind a very startled looking Father Bourke.

"Can I interest you in a private, in-depth exploration of the Gospel young lady?" he asked in a sultry voice.

Thank God Father Bourke was occupied with a cross looking man who held very clear views on his sermon. Breathing a sigh of relief, I found myself face to face with the knight in shining armour. Annoyingly, he looked even better outside. Behind him, I could see two men staring at us as they lolled in an open-topped Bentley. I almost fainted on the spot. I hoisted myself into full 'offended Lady' stance and glared at him.

"I don't think that kind of comment is appropriate."

"No seriously, we are going to a church lunch. Care you join us?" he looked at me quizzically, a smirk spreading across his glorious features.

Oh Dear God let the ground open up and swallow me. The poor man is obviously some kind of fundamentalist and I am clearly a pervert. Then I looked more closely. He was laughing. Actually, that doesn't properly describe it. He was contorted with glee. His shoulders were shaking and he appeared to be choking.

"Classic." He managed. And then "Actually, we're going to Claridges Hotel to eat off our hangovers. Care to join us? I've seen you before. We're at King's College too. Law. You?"

"French." He must have spotted me the one time I managed to struggle into University. The lectures were all scheduled at times which I considered to be the middle of the night and I rarely made it in. It had taken me almost two years to find the library. I was a pitiful excuse for a student.

And so it began. A whirlwind of lunches, dinners, and later an awful lot more. Edward.

Forget repenting at leisure. A couple of clicks and I was done. Ticket to New Orleans? Bingo. Economy? I think not. Business? Go on then. May as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb (Granny again…)

This time next tomorrow, I would be on my way.


	3. The annoying voice of reason steps in

What the buggery had I done? About half way over the Atlantic, I started to sober up and the full enormity of my stupidity hit me like a brick. Oh yes, it had all been very fine, lying back in my seat and drinking Chardonnay but the party was over and I had nothing to do but face the consequences of my hastiness.

What was I going to do? Rock up in New Orleans and ring Edward's doorbell? Couple of problems to achieving this; firstly, I had no idea where he lived. Secondly, he had probably forgotten my existence.

Would I turn up on his doorstep like a deranged stalker, introduce myself to his (probable) wife and (hypothetical) four children? God but they would look gorgeous with his green eyes set in tiny faces. Stop, stop, stop! I pinched myself before my imagination ran away with me and I had furnished him with a couple of sets of twins and a loveable dog. The paper had never shown him with the same woman more than twice (I had counted) and there were parades of them (sixteen when I last checked. Which was yesterday. Actually, if I was going to be honest, I checked every week. I was shameless).

Yes, turning up on spec had been my master plan. Imagine if someone did that to you, I scolded myself; Out of the blue after seventeen-odd years. 'Oh I was just passing…' You'd be on the phone to the police before the sentence had been completed. I needed to be a bit brighter than that.

Jasper. He was the answer. He had always liked me and his abandonment had hurt almost as badly as Edward's. Oh Emmett was amusing but, God love him, he wasn't the brightest star in the heavens as Granny would say. Jasper on the other hand was bliss on a stick. Women fell like flies when he grinned lazily at them. When he smiled, you had the impression that, mentally, he was always standing on a plantation porch, tipping his hat and surveying his kingdom. Edward was powerfully confident but Jasper somehow knew who he was. As I had come to know him and the layers peeled back, I became aware of his deep tendency to depression. We never talked about it but sometimes he would take himself off like a wounded animal. Edward told me that he went to the cemetery and sat for hours but clammed up when I asked why. If I could find Jasper, I could find Edward.

I really had no picture of what Edward's life was like. Although we had been together for two tumultuous years, I had never met Edward's family. He didn't talk about them and, cocooned in his love, I was loathe to let reality intrude.

My family was in Ireland where they had retired to live the life that never was in the Celtic twilight. They renovated an old thatched farmhouse and played at farming (although my father couldn't bring himself to kill any of the animals so they were effectively running a retirement home for increasingly moth-eaten sheep, an overfed pig and gaggles of geese) . My father played the banjo. My mother wove cloth based on traditional Irish methods for goodness sakes. Everything their parents had fled to England to avoid in other words. They had adored Edward (who didn't) with reservations "he has that look of danger about him" explained my mother, vaguely. I didn't want to point out that it was exactly this edge which made him so irresistible.

Back to Jasper. I knew all about him. He was some kind of high profile property tycoon and regularly popped up during my stalking session of the Times Picayune. All I needed to do was be around business types and I was sure to meet him. Again though, the still small voice of reason whispered 'what, are you going to haunt the lobby of his offices? Does this not strike you as slightly bizarre?'

Despondently, I picked up my online copy of Gambit, the New Orleans what's-on magazine. And then I found it. 'Volunteers needed '. A whole column dedicated to trying to entice people into giving up their time for charity. Bingo! I ran through the options; redecorating (God no), animals (cleaning? I think not), helping out at a fundraising barbecue event? Yes please. Pork, smoking barbecues and the chance of meeting Jasper? Heck yes. I would be there with cheese on top.

And so I had my plan. After a minor disagreement with immigration about whether I really was the person I claimed to be (I should never have had the picture airbrushed although it did look pretty damn good), I was in. On my way into the Crescent City. Plan Jasper was in action.


	4. The Severing of ties

"Bloody hell fire!" I yelped.

Completely disorientated, I had got out of bed and brained myself on what seemed to be a brass Deathstar masquerading as a lampshade and hanging from the ceiling.

"What the buggery is that?" Nursing my head, I took in my surroundings, rapidly re-orienting myself. I was in New Orleans. More specifically, I was in what I was informed ''Uptown", installed in a flat which had looked good in the pictures but appeared to be furnished with the cast offs from a nineteenth century brothel. If this was "Southern Chic", they could keep it.

Groping my way to the kitchen, I found to my delight that not only was there a coffee maker but that there was also coffee. God bless people who leave their un-used coffee behind in holiday rentals. The sun was streaming into the small room, highlighting the dodgy hospital-green paintwork and the suspicious stains on the walls. Still, it was somewhere to sray.

Suitably fortified I pondered my next move. I couldn't avoid it; like a grain of sand in a shoe, my conscience kept irritating me. I had to speak to Toby. He would be livid, furious, devastated. I was a crow, no doubt and in the cold light of day, my hasty decision to run away from him didn't seem to clever after all.

I picked up the phone

"Toby." My voice shook and I sat down suddenly. I hadn't really thought this through. What the heck do you say to a husband you have just run out on?

"You left me. Fifteen years of marriage and you just leave without a word." he hissed.

"I did. I'm so sorry, I was just so miserable… ' My voice caught. I was ripped apart with sadness. "We've been frozen in ice for so long. We never even touch each other. It was like we were separated by glass, together but apart. I was so lonely and we seemed to be living in different worlds."

His voice rose, "You could have at least done me the courtesy of talking to me instead of just disappearing."

His words seared into me like a hot iron.

"I know. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I couldn't cope any more. Such a coward." I was sobbing now, big heaves of pain.

I could hear the vague noises of my (ex) house in the background; the radio permanently on, the muffled drilling of the workmen next door. I sagged but knew it held nothing for me. Toby was speaking again.

"Actually it was a vast relief"

For a minute, I thought that I'd misheard. For the first time in our relationship, Toby had surprised me.

"Relief?" I gasped.

"Yes." he replied, firmly. "Both of us trapped in our own unhappiness. Not talking, just sinking further and further into gloom. My drinking. Your eating problems… not symptomatic of a joyous life are they?"

Ah yes, I hadn't mentioned that. We'd never really addressed the Elephant in the Room. I had chronic bulimia.

It had started at school, vanished under Edward's regime and was now back with a vengeance. I ate my head off and then threw up whenever I had the chance to do so. An hour alone in a kitchen turned me into a magnificent maniac, devouring everything in sight. I had even been known to eat raisins with milk and flour when things were desperate. The low point was finding myself going through the bin one evening, trying to get to the remains of a pie which I had thrown out earlier. I hadn't realised that Toby knew. I was starting to understand that there were a lot of things I hadn't appreciated about him.

Our call wound on. Across a thousand miles, we were finally able to communicate. Ironic really given that we had spent almost every evening sitting at different ends of a six foot table and yet we had never managed to have a conversation.

"I don't think I can come back." I said eventually.

"I know…. We had a good go of it but I was never really enough for you and if I am going to be honest, I just want a quiet life. I know that you thrive on drama and you want more than I can give. You'll find it at some point and I hope you earn to love yourself. We'll sort out the house at some point. I suppose an amicable separation?"

And with that, my marriage was over. Toby was a better man than I had given him credit for. I didn't cry but for a long time I gazed into space, holding my rapidly cooling mug in both hands.

Along with random advice about how to eke out a pound of mince and why you should never trust a red-headed priest, Granny had passed on the best wisdom she could have offered; 'When I married, I had nothing. For most of my life, that hasn't changed. Get yourself a degree. Get yourself a career. Save, you'll never lose with bricks and mortar. And never, never be without a pot of gold, just in case.'

I had followed her recipe for success. I collected degrees, I saved, had a couple of flats which I rented out and had accumulated a stash which would last me for a long time provided I didn't paint the town red. Bathing in caviar had never been my style so I would be fine. I didn't want anything from Toby and when we eventually sold the house, we would split the proceeds equally. Fair's fair. Naked you come into the world and naked you will leave or something along those lines. We had built a life together and now we would dismantle it. Before I became too melancholy, I shook myself and jumped up. "Enough! Get a grip."

I needed to orientate myself.

I knew all about the South from books. Post-Edward I had read everything based in the region which was not nailed down. I had sighed with Scarlett, mourned for Blanche and delighted in Ignatius. I had gone off piste and read everything written by Florence King that I could get my hands on. I even read every variation on "mawkish platitudes interspersed with recipes" that Amazon could supply. In short, I knew everything and nothing. In my mind, the whole place would be full of men dressed in cream who lived in variations of Tara and denim clad roughs who called everyone 'ma'am', drank and fought but loved their Mommas and lived in something called a double-wide. I was a bit hazy about what this actually was but it seemed to be as mandatory as the wearing of worn cowboy boots and battered hats.

New Orleans certainly didn't fit my dreams of the South. For one thing, the potholes were so big that a car could have disappeared down them and be lost forever. The houses were heavenly though and the streetcar made me quote Tennessee Williams. God I am pretentious.

I was still shaken from my call and so I did what I always do when I am in a bad way, I went to Church. And there, of course, I saw Edward.


	5. The Burning of Bridges

Of all the churches in all the world, he had to walk into mine. Well technically, I suppose that I had walked into his. Painfully aware of my red eyes set off beautifully by my pasty skin, two radishes in a circle of melting snow, I slunk behind a pillar like the coward I am. Safe under my veil and shielded by three solid feet of some kind of marble, I peered out at him.

Strike me down, he was even more handsome than ever. Bastard. The thick hair was still a glorious mane and the carved granite of his face bore no signs of wear. I on the other hand looked like a hag. This was beyond surreal. I knew what I was doing in a church in the middle of a week but Edward?

As I watched, cowering behind my pillar, he ran his hand through his hair, immediately bringing back a thousand memories of him making the same gesture, none of them suitable for a church: Lying above me in a punt in Oxford (bloody uncomfortable since you ask), staring impassively as I begged... pleaded with him to take me before I combusted, looking down from his horse as he cantered off the field, sweaty and triumphant, beckoning with his head to join him in the stables for what I later discovered was the most scandalous escapade in the history of the club, and, burning in my memory, as he had delivered his final lines that had broken my heart.

I was startled from my reverie by the click of heels on marble. A stunning redhead was striding down the aisle towards Edward and a waiting priest. Seriously, what were the odds of being in the same place as him on my first day, and what on earth was he doing front and centre? Slowly, the realization hit me and I reeled, holding on to the smooth marble of the pillar for support.

It couldn't be. Had I inadvertently walked in on a wedding rehearsal? No. That would be just too cruel. The woman made it to the alter rails, moving with a sinuous grace. She reached out for him and he turned, a look of jubilation blazing on his face.

Without waiting to see more, I grabbed my back and raced out of the church, tearing off my veil and bursting through the heavy double doors with a strength I didn't know I had.

I was lost. And so I walked. Numbly, I wandered through narrow, silent streets where shuttered houses seemed to loom over me, passing suddenly into crowds of late morning shoppers and bursting out into a road rammed with bars. The gaiety jarred with my misery and the revelry around me clashed with my melancholy. I should never have come. It crossed my mind that it was awfully early for so many people to be hitting bars but on reflection, it seemed like a bloody good idea. No. I drew a deep breath. Getting stocious was an appealing idea but what I really needed to do was face my demons.

Buying myself a cup of coffee in a dinky little place staffed by terrifyingly trendy looking tattooed hipsters, I wandered into an inviting square and sat down. The coffee was good. Better than good. I looked at the cup which was emblazoned with 'Strand' and a picture of a familiar looking lion. Ha. T looked a bit like the King's College mascot, Reggie.

'We're going to steal back Reggie.' Edward announced, bursting into my flat and chucking what appeared to be a rope on my sofa.

'If I am included in that 'we' please include me right out again. And what's with the rope? Are you into some devious bondage type stuff? If so, again, include me out.'

'Oh darlin' you have NO idea of what fun we could have.'

'I have a bloody good idea' I replied tartly. 'I've read 'The Story of O' and 'Belle du Jour' and I know that it is an extremely short step from being tied up to finding yourself branded, collared, stark naked and being shared around at a drinks' party. And I am buggered if I am going to call you Master if that's what you're after.'

Edward exploded with laughter. 'Your mind is a fascinating place. Much though I would love to explore the wonderful world of pornography with you, we have more pressing matters. We are stealing back Reggie from the UCL vaults. They pinched it a year ago and honour must be satisfied. Get your coat on darlin', the boys are waiting.'

And that is how I found myself climbing in through a back window of UCL ('No way in hell that I'm goin' to get through there. I'd be stuck tight as a tick in a minute' explained Emmett. Jasper just sniggered. 'All yours lovie!').

I let the boys in through a side door and within minutes they were man-handling a concrete lion up a flight of cellar stairs. I had never been so exciting and terrified in my life. I was a criminal… going to hell in a handbasket for sure. God but it was fun.

Seeing Edward in action was a revelation. He led the boys like a General, barking out orders and making our escapade seem like an everyday event. All that was missing was camo and I would have been unable to hold myself back. As it was, I was so over-excited that I was practically panting with lust.

'Boys' he finally drawled when Reggie was safely installed in my bedroom. 'I'm going to have to ask you to take your leave. We have a literary discussion to finish here.'

I could hardly walk the next day and never looked at Reggie in quite the same way again.

The sounds of the City crept back in. I finished my coffee. Here was the thing; Edward was taken. And I was an idiot, far from home with bridges still burning merrily behind me.

Hang on. I was in New Orleans, surrounded by potential fun. I could either sob into my (empty) cup or I could avail myself of the myriad of (already open) frozen margarita bars and wake up in three weeks' time probably married to a farmer called Cletus and living in Alabama, or I could try to sort my life out.

I had lived a half-life for way too long. I needed to sort out my eating, get back on track and try to work out what I really wanted. Maybe I was using Edward as way of avoiding facing my problems? As long as I could think about him, I could ignore the shambles my life had become. He'd obviously found someone and I was a mess, why would he want me, the ghost of girlfriends past?

Sod it. I was going to salvage something from the ashes of my dreams. I would use New Orleans to start again. I would find Jasper and Emmett. Surely, with this distance between us and with a new wife, I could be friends with them? At least I could see Edward then, and crumbs, according to Granny, were better than no bread. More importantly, at the risk of sounding like a flower child, I was going to find myself.

Really, what on earth did I have to lose?


	6. Never Trust a Man with a Sharp Implement

So my optimistic 'I am going to get a life' mood lasted roughly twenty minutes; the time it took me to rattle my way back home on a streetcar. I had to get a bike. The idea of driving a car was utterly terrifying but a bike somehow less so. Logic has never been my forte.

Was he getting married? I briefly wandered off into a reverie in which Edward, half way through his wedding vows, somehow caught sight of me, froze and declared immediately 'I can't marry you Mindy Rae, I love that woman over there. She is the only one for me.' This dream was flawed for a number of reasons. Firstly, the chances of being invited to an ex-boyfriend's wedding were slim indeed, particularly when said ex-boyfriend hadn't attempted contact for over seventeen years. Secondly, Mindy Rae? I had definitely been over indulging in the Dukes of Hazard. I suspected that a name like that might be attached to someone deemed to be a mite trashy. Edward would be marrying New Orleans royalty, I thought sourly. Thirdly, potentially trashy wife or not, the idea of breaking up a wedding would have Granny spinning in her grave. I was better than that. Ergo… I had to get to him before he went through with it.

With new resolve, I thought carefully about my plan. Clearly I couldn't leave the house without walking straight into drama so I had to be strategic. And after seeing Mindy Rae or whoever she was, I had some serious competition. My schemes to see Edward and to get into shape might not be mutually exclusive.

As I leapt over the potholes and broken pavements of Magazine Street, I ruminated on my vision of a slimmed down, miraculously more stunning me being spotted by Edward across a crowded art gallery/museum/softly lit restaurant (candles hide all flaws). I would float elegantly towards him, shining hair bouncing on my shoulders and a winsome smile touching my perfect lips and he would instantly break into impassioned pleas for me to return to him. The realization of this vision would entail me losing a tonne of weight, hiding the grey hairs which were stubbornly making their presence felt and possibly getting collagen injections or even, I thought glumly a full face lift. Minor flaws in achieving these goals were my dedication to eating as much American junk food as I could lay my hands on, my laziness and ineptitude with home hair colour kits and my extreme fear of needles. No worries. I would outsource.

Which is how I found myself swathed in towels in a hairdressers' chair as a twelve year old pretending to be a hairstylist ('just call me Aro') minced and danced around me brandishing a pair of scissors. 'Ladies your age just LOVE me' he fluted happily. 'I know how to make you look special.' I highly doubt it I thought but wisely held my tongue. Never challenge a man holding a sharp pointy thing near your neck was my motto. Actually my family motto was 'I hope to Speed' which was ironic given my deep devotion to sloth but there you have it.

Like an idiot, I dozed off and woke up as Aro whisked off the gown 'And look at YOU... transformed!'

Holy Mother of God. I had been transformed from someone who needed a bit of a polish to someone who shouldn't leave the house without a bag on her head. My lovely, shiny locks were coloured an odd tomato shade of red and had been twisted into contorted lumps. I had a fringe. My God, I looked like My Little Pony. Bursting into tears, I grabbed my bag, blundered into a couple of horror struck assistants and fled.

'Fleeing seems to be the them e of today' I muttered as I dashed out. 'Thank heavens nobody knows me here.' I cannoned out of the door, tripped over a broken paving stone and fell… straight into the arms of an innocent passer-by. Mortified, I picked myself up and looked at my saviour.

'Jasper!'


	7. Things don't happen to plan

**Author's note: Thank you SO much to everyone who is reading and reviewing my piece. You are total stars!**

 **You know the deal… not my names but definitely my story…**

This day could absolutely not get any worse. On my knees, looking like something the cat had dragged in, in front of a man who had hung the moon for me. Great.

I was hauled to my feet by two calloused hands and found myself being wrapped up in a warm embrace, tomato hair and all. It was like coming home. I inhaled his scent, the almost leathery aftershave he always wore mixed with a familiar smell I couldn't identify. I couldn't help it. I burst into tears. Oh God. Poor man.

"Hey, hey darlin'. I'm not that bad am I?"said Jasper in a warm voice.

I was incoherent and deeply aware that my tears were not the gentle sobs of a maiden but the raucous, snot pouring heaves of someone who should be locked in a dark room.

I found myself being lifted firmly by the arm, half carried along the road and shoved into a coffee shop. Vaguely familiar, the space was warm and inviting. Most importantly, it was dimly lit.

"Go and sort yourself out. I'll order"

In the loo, a shamed inspection in the mirror showed that the day could actually get worse. My hair was the aforementioned nightmare but I had added long mascara streaks and… oh God… a line of snot across my cheeks. I wanted the earth to swallow me up. Maybe he hadn't noticed.

I did my best and emerged.

"Well now, don't you look better without the boogers?"

"Bastard."

But that did it. I grinned up at him. God help me but he was a sight for (slightly inflamed) eyes. He had always been a looker but now he was just magnificent. His hair was a touch longer than socially acceptable and screamed 'rebel' but his dancing grey eyes promised kindness. When we were in London, girls had been throwing themselves at him. Now he must have to go around with protection to avoid being mobbed. He was divine.

"Close your mouth, darlin', you'll catch flies" he teased.

"Really? People do say that in outside "Fried Green Tomatoes"? Well strike me down Billy Bob.."

"And lovely it is to see you again. I see that time hasn't changed you?"

Well now, that was a debatable point. A couple more pounds, a bum which looked like the craters of the moon in the mirror and a worrying tendency to sprout hairs where no hairs should be. In a flash, I was transported back to London, when I was young, my bum wasn't trying to join my knees and I reveled loud music in restaurants rather than wishing it were banned by law. I grinned like a loon.

"Gosh Jasper I missed you" I sighed.

"Well now," he paused. I could almost imagine the toothpick moving from one side of his jaw to the other. "The bigger question is; what on earth are you doing in N'awlins?"

Pause. I frantically ran through the inventory of excuses. I had two options here; lie like a bastard or start things honestly. I had spent way too long dancing around, pretending to be something I wasn't to go for the latter option.

"I wanted to find Edward."

Unfortunately my announcement coincided with Jasper taking a mouthful of coffee… with which he covered me as he spluttered; "You what? Edward? Why? Here? Oh God, I am so sorry…"

Sponging myself down with a handful of napkins, I attempted to regain some dignity.

"I wanted to know… damn it, Jasper, you SPAT at me!"

We rolled around in our chairs. Again, the warmth returned. It was like coming home. I had adored Edward but Jasper had provided the constancy when the fuel mixture ran too rich for me.

I had a sudden memory of our weekend in Rock. We had all gone down, the whole gang, to stay in someone's house. Edward and I were an established couple but someone (Emmett probably) had invited a gaggle of loud London girls. They were incredibly shy-making, the kind of girls who were the life and soul of the party and would play strip poker/take their clothes off/accept any challenge at the drop of a hat. I was bitterly aware of my dullness and ended up spending most of my time cooking for the guys ('God, you are such a star. The things you do with an egg..') whilst jealously resenting the attention the vivacious group were getting. Saturday culminated in us swimming in the harbour, surrounded by fishing boats, random nets and vicious looking anchors. I was dragged along, desperate to participate but played the invisible woman. I shivered on the edge as they ripped off their kit and plunged into the sea, singing 'The Summer of 69' at the top of their voices. Bitches. I silently that they would stand on a fishing hook.

At the end of the night, we walked home (shivering, this was Cornwall not Key West) and Edward had said 'they really know how to live, hey?' I felt as though he had taken one of the frozen anchors and shoved it in my heart. We went to bed and I lay awake for hours. Would I ever be exciting enough to keep him.

The next morning, red eyed, I had crept downstairs to find Jasper, suited and booted in the kitchen.

"What on earth are you doing here?" I asked him, amazed that he'd managed to emerge after the amount of whiskey he and Edward had put away last night.

"I have to go to Church." He didn't look me in the face and there seemed to be a sadness to him that I hadn't seen before. He looked, for the first time, lonely.

"Want me to come?" I asked quietly.

"No darlin', all good. You go back to bed."

As I turned and left, he added slowly:

"And don't worry, that kind of fun won't keep him. God knows, he gets enough of that at home. You are his rock."

How had I forgotten all that? And now, here I was, in America. Opposite Jasper. I opened my mouth to start the interrogation when he glanced at his watch and leaped out of his seat like a scalded cat.

"Got to go. Got to go! Where are you at?" he cried.

"Here, idiot. Right in front of you."

"No, where are you staying? Give you dinner? No. Even better. Friday. Meet me at Galatoire's. Got to dash!"

And with that, he legged it leaving me feeling as though I had been through a wash cycle and was now in the tumble drying stage.

What was Galatoire's? I had three days to plan my attack. And more to the point, get rid of this terrible hair cut… For the first time since I had arrived, I felt a frisson of excitement. I would go, get answers, and find Edward. Bingo.


	8. Pass me the Lycra, Momma

And so began an operation which would make Desert Storm look like a day in the park. Alone in the Bordello, I survey myself in the mirror.

Ok, front on was not a total disgrace. My breasts would have failed the pencil test but that was why God had invented underwired bras.

Side on was another story. Years of 'ok, just one more glass', 'I would love to go to yoga but I need to water my plants' and 'I'll go the gym next week' had definitely taken their toll. My tummy was flattish provided that I sucked my breath ruthlessly. The only problem was that, if I attempted to breathe, everything sagged out. I had relied on bulimia to keep me thin (not a good strategy) but had ignored the toll it would take on my body. Think about it, if you blow up a balloon and then deflate it a hundred times, the rubber weakens. This was my stomach. I was thin (ish) and could look pretty damn good in the right light with serious lycra but nekkid and in daylight. Not a sight for those with weak stomachs.

Edward's wife (girlfriend? Partner? Gold digging trashy bimbo?) was stunning. Probably had perky tits that stood to attention when he clicked his fingers, I though glumly.

Oh yes, his fingers. At the Law Society dinner. A paneled wood room stuffed with grim looking portraits of judges long dead as their modern day barely breathing counterparts lined the tables, stuffing themselves stupid on boeuf bourginon and knocking back the red wine as though a drought were imminent.

'Keep your mouth shut and good things will happen.' He had hissed as his hand crept up my thigh. I smiled winningly at the judge opposite me who was droning on about his fascinating victory over God knows who.

'And the bugger tried to pull the old Correlli v Grey precedent. Well I told him straight... he could get the hell out of my court if he thought that was acceptable.'

My eyes glazed; both with boredom and lust. Edward's hand had reached inside my knickers and was busy massaging my clitoris. I was burning.

'Good call your honour.' He said calmly. 'I believe in total discipline… in court.' He turned to me. 'What about you darlin'? Silence is golden.'

I smiled. Desperately trying to hold myself together. I felt the fire building in my belly and in my cheeks. Focusing on my plate, the building tension grew, flourished and flamed, consuming me entirely and making way for the slower pulses of relief.

'Oh my!' I hissed. The judge looked up, momentarily silenced.

'Heavenly beef' I explained. Edward sucked his finger thoughtfully.

'Not the best thing on the menu, I suspect' he murmured.

And this is what I had to face. His memory of a younger, happier, more daring me. Who he had rejected, I reminded myself darkly. Bugger it. If I am going to face him, it will be as a GODDESS.

Pass me the Lycra momma, I'm going to war.


	9. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Thank you so much to everyone who is reading this, especially to EdwarsdfirstKiss and .twilight2 for classic reviews! I love your support and ideas. Thank you!**

 **Usual, not my names but sure as hell my story!**

Magazine Street – home of a hundred boutiques, none of which appeared to have anything which would suit my needs. Jasper's Friday lunch date was looming and I was frantically ripping through the racks looking for something which screamed "stylish, elegant, yet available".

I had more or less resigned myself to the one (baggy) wrap dress which I had managed to find. It whispered "sad loser who chose the frock said to fit everyone but suits no one" which was far from the effect I was after.

One last shop…

I pushed open the prettily painted front door of the boutique to be faced what looked like an explosion in granny's attic. From every drawer spilled lace, silks, satins and pearls. Mirrors were hung with long, sparking necklaces and darling beaded bags swung on hooks. Ingrid Lucia crooned about taking a vacation from herself in the background and the air was fragrant with tuberose. I wanted to move in immediately. As I was standing, mouth open, a girl burst out from behind a crystal curtain.

"Well hey, how is your day going?"

Sometimes I hated being British. When met with an onslaught of friendliness from a stranger, our automatic reaction was to hide behind the barrier of politeness.

"Excellent thank you."

God loosen up. This girl was the friendliest thing I had seen all day. I shook myself and quickly added:

"And you?"

"I am just fine but I have to say that you look as though you've been ridden hard and put away wet. What you need sugar is a drink.'"

She paused, surveying me with a critical eye and taking in my manic expression, hair which was a delightful rats' nest after having had a hundred dresses dragged over it and manic eyes added, "or maybe two."

Lifesaver. Lead me to the bottle.

"Gosh no, so kind but I couldn't possibly." I muttered.

"Rubbish. It's five o'clock and my throat is like the Sahara. I can't drink alone, my mama would kill me. You'd be doing me a favour."

This conversation was punctuated by the girl dashing around, collecting glasses from one shelf and opening a cupboard to reveal a full mirrored drinks cabinet. What was this place?

"Bloody hell, I feel as though I've fallen down the rabbit hole!"

"Well sugar, that's about right. Call me Alice."

Two serious martinis later, I was pouring out my problems. I didn't name names but by God I couldn't be accused of avoiding exaggeration.

"He was the LOVE of my LIFE I tell you. I still don't know what happened and it is ripping me apart. I didn't do anything wrong, I'm not a total heifer and I didn't steal any of the silver."

"Maybe he met someone else?" she suggested gently.

I sobered up. "Honestly, I have thought about that. There was a girl who hung around, you know one of those girls who boys love, always game for anything?"

"Ah yes" she said sadly. "I know one of those. I've had a massive crush on a guy for years. We grew up together before he went abroad. Anyway, when he came back, we fell back into our friendship as though he'd never left. Problem is that he doesn't see me. Every time we go out, this Victoria turns up and I can't compete. She's the centre of attention, does everything they dare her to and just fascinates them all. She hates all women and is a total bitch but men don't see it. Last week, she waiting until everyone was eating and then said "oh Alice, don't you look darling in that dress. I did try it but the saleslady told me it was designed for a fuller figure. You look great though." Bitch."

I gazed at Alice. She had a figure that would make a model spit, perfect size, glorious proportions. We both sighed.

"Anyway sugar, such is life. And I will be your fairy Godmother. Where is the date?"

"Galatoire's, Friday."

"Wooo…. Serious. That is the power broker day at the restaurant. All of New Orleans society will be there. Table hopping, lots of gossip and woe betide you if you don't dress for it. God forbid that someone mistake you for a tourist."

"I am a tourist…"

"There are tourists and tourists" she said darkly, suddenly leaping out of her chair. Within minutes, the air was a frenzy of flying clothes as she flung dresses through the air where they landed miraculously on clothes rail. "Years of practice" she called smugly.

The girl was a miracle worker. Every dress hugged my curves and made my haggard face rosy. Who was this angel? Dove grey silk, the softest rose satin, deep pearly velvet. I was in heaven.

"Got it!" she chirped from a distant corner as a flurry of fabric landed on the rail."I knew I had it somewhere. I've been saving this. You see, the thing is that you don't want to look too vintage-y but at the same time, you need to look timeless"

The dress was a tight, teal blue form-fitting sheath which reached below my knees and had the most amazing, sculptural puff sleeves. It was low enough to be interesting but high enough to be respectable as Granny would say. I looked amazing.

"Roland Mouret Galaxy, first collection. Gorgeous isn't it? I've been saving it for the right person. You can wear this forever."

I looked at the price tag which had far too many noughts but, bugger it, I needed my battle dress. All I needed now was a pair of fuck off heels and I was done.

I floated out of the shop followed by a promise of brunch on Saturday ("a debrief' was what Alice called it, suddenly morphing into G.I. Jane). I was set and in less than twenty four hours the Edward mystery would be solved. Or not.


	10. Fridays at Galatoires

I walked from the mayhem of the French Quarter into the welcoming oasis which is Galatoire's and stepped back in time. Jasper was leaning against a chair in the centre of the room, whiskey in hand and a mischievous smile on his face.

"Well hey little darlin', keep me waiting seventeen years why don't you?" He hollered.

Heads turned as I slunk across the room, heels tapping on the marble floor and face blazing.

Before I could get much further, I was lifted from my feet and swung around. "Little MOMMA!"

No one would be either a, crass enough or b, confident enough to completely disrupt what looked like a pretty civilised restaurant in prime lunch hour. No one other than…

"Emmett!" My voice broke, "Oh you dear man. God but I missed you"' I snuffled inelegantly into his bull like neck.

So much for my dignified entrance; I was hanging in the air, no doubt displaying a leg full of Spanx, my beautiful makeup quickly being transferred to Emmett's pristine white shirt and tears running down my face.

And then for the second time in a week, I heard the magic words: "What you need is a good, stiff… drink!"

I collapsed into a chair, overwhelmed with emotions: joy, loss and sheer incredulity that I was here. It was surreal. The foundations of my life for two years, here, at the same table.

"Here. Milk Punch, that'll sort you out.'" A glass of something creamy was thrust into my hands. I took a deep swig and immediately spluttered;

"Mother of God! what is in this? Tastes like rocket fuel!"

"Mainly millk .Well partly. Ok, predominantly hard liquor but nothing too bad. Couple of these and you'll be feeling no pain."

I gazed in wonder at the men before me, trying to identify the boys they had been. Emmett had remained a big bear of a man but moved with surprising grace and had certainly not gone to fat. Jasper was his heavenly self, if anything slightly leaner but looking pretty damn good in a khaki suit. God but Southern men could dress. Anything like that would have looked utterly wrong in London but here it was perfect.

We occupied a table in the centre of the room and I couldn't help noticing the surreptitious glances of every other occupant, particularly the women. Yes indeedy, these fine specimens are with me… HA!

We quickly fell back into our old routine; mocking Emmett, gently poking fun at Jasper for being sensitive, avoiding the subject of Edward.

"And so, tell all. Are you two married?" I asked, throwing caution to the winds.

A long look passed between them.

"Nope. Well, sort of for Emmett. No hope for me." Replied Jasper with a self deprecating shrug.

"Jasper loves well but not wisely" whispered Emmett loudly.

"Well hey pot, here's kettle. At least I can still visit houses where the father doesn't come after me with a shotgun." Jasper snapped back.

"That was only once. Well maybe twice. Anyway, it was a long time ago. I am really settled now. Happy as a hog in a mud hole" He turned to me. "You will love Rose, she is a total doll."

"Is that a good thing? Doll as an Barbie or doll as in Chucky?" I asked carefully.

"Depends on the day' muttered Jasper darky, adding quickly 'and you litte darlin'?"

"Was married. Now not. Well not-ish… separated I suppose." I related the shameful story of my exodus from London. For once in my life, I saw them both speechless.

"Well damn…" Jasper managed. "You and Edward are definitely birds of a feather…"

Before he could get any further, the waiter suddenly materialized bearing plates of food which I didn't remember ordering.

"This is our canteen" explained Emmett, "we know what soars."

I prodded what looked like chips served with a bowl of cornflour suspiciously.

"Fried eggplant with sugar," chanted the waiter, a look of pride on his face. Surely this was some kind of scam to cheat tourists? But no, the boys piled in as though they hadn't eaten for a month.

I shivered slightly and focused my energies on the alcohol. The boys were right, two glasses of Milk Punch and I was flying. Bliss.

Eggplant aside, the food was ambrosial. I moaned with happiness at my first bite of Trout Amandine. Head back and eyes closed, I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

"When Harry met Sally" barked Emmett with glee. "Fifty bucks for you to carry on!"

A gasp came from someone just outside our vision, followed a rapidly escalating panting interspersed with sighs of "yes yes…" which rapidly escalated into foul throated moans.

The room fell silent as the voice finally reached a crescendo and gradually faded, small waves of bliss being communicated in slow whispers. We gazed around open-mouthed towards the source of the show: a statuesque blonde who sashayed her way over to our table on impossibly high heels. Bending over Emmett, she murmured:

"That's fifty bucks you own me you great ox!"

He turned to me, a glazed look of pure lust in his eyes.

"Little Momma, this is my Rose…"


	11. In which much drink is consumed

**Thank you SO much for all your fabulous reviews… imagine, almost 2,000 visitors! I can't tell you how much I appreciate you all. For the shy souls reading, I will leave you in peace but please know that the positive comments I receive make my life glow! This is my first story and I have a fragile shell. If you want to criticise, work away by PM but please make it constructive if you can. Your words will make my work better. To the charming anonymous reviewer, as Granny used to say… if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all!**

"Rose, I think that I just fell in love with you. Anyone who can match Emmett and win gets my vote."

No one would describe Rose as "pretty". It would be like describing a Monet as a "good painting." She was glorious. Energy seemed to radiate from her and she had presence with a capital P. Emmett was gazing at her as though he couldn't quite believe his luck. As well he should do. When I thought back to the parade of brain-dead Sloanes who he lured back to the flat in London, it was as though he had hit the jackpot. The low point had been one girl who was so dense that she genuinely seemed to believe the story that Emmett's American accent was because he came from a small town outside Edinburgh. Apparently her saving grace was that she was double jointed. Work that out.

Lunch turned into an absolute riot. The boys and Rose seemed to know everyone in the room and our table turned into the social capital. I switched from Milk Punch to something called Café Brulot which, with hindsight, may have been a mistake. ('It's mainly coffee' Jasper had told me persuasively.) Liar. I was flying and, in my haze, I didn't really notice that the subject of Edward was deftly avoided.

Ricocheting off the walls as I left the restaurant, I suspected that I may be drunk.

"I may be a bit tipsy…" I said experimentally, noticing that I could barely articulate.

"As a skunk, little Momma!" bellowed Emmett. 'Don't worry, Jasper will carry you home. And don't forget tomorrow. We'll pick you up at six.'

What on earth was he talking about? Dimly I remembered a conversation about a trip up state. Fish featured, as did guns. And camo. God help me, men in camo…

"Earth calling! Come on or we'll never get you home."

We emerged into the early evening dusk. Where has the day gone? The sounds of the French Quarter indicated that the night was gearing up. Jazz and rap fought for attention and gangs of revellers clutching plastic grenade shaped glasses laughed on the pavement. "Never drink anything served in a novelty glass" was my motto, based on a particularly experimental weekend in Amsterdam. It has taken me a week to recover and Edward had worn sunglasses in the house for two days.

Jasper poured me into what had to be the largest truck I had ever seen. You could have fit a whole family into the passenger seat with room for the rest of the village in the back. God knows, New Orleans roads were pretty ropey but did he need a troop carrier? The interior had the most heavenly aroma of coffee.

I remembered the old banger that Edward had driven in London. It was on its last legs and was always crammed with tack, polo mallets and (occasionally) books. Not the most aphrodisiac of scents but I had once got so carried away stroking his thigh as he drove that he had pulled off the road and dragged me into the back seat. At a key moment, I had managed to get my leg tangled up in a head collar and had to be dragged out.

"I quite like the look of you bound and helpless" he'd said, languidly.

"Pervert."

"Always."

We'd checked into a hotel and left three days later. The head collar was joined by a harness and great fun it was too. I looked at jockeys in a different way after that.

I was decanted out of Jasper's car and made my way unsteadily back to the Bordello. I had found out that Miss Irina the owner (and source of the seriously misguided interior decoration) lived on the ground floor and she had taken to popping out of bushes and interrogating me about my life. Seriously, I should have stayed in a hotel.

I had just made it safely up the stairs when my phone rang.

"Well… tell all."

"It was amazing Alice. Like we had seen each other yesterday." I slurred.

"Let me guess… Milk Punch and Café Brulot?"

"Yup"

"Take two Tylenol and go to bed. Nothing else for it. Trust me, I know."

"Yes mum. But wait, I met this fabulous girl. Rose, seriously good value, you'd love her."

"Did you say Rose?" her tone changed. "And who did you meet for lunch?"

"Just Jasper and Emmett."

"Jasper? Six foot something, God-like? Looks like he should be on a plantation?" She breathed in a reverent voice.

"Yes, do you know him?" I paused as the penny slowly dropped in my alcohol clouded brain. "Oh my goodness Alice. It's him isn't it? The love of your life?"

"That's him. And he barely knows I exist!" She said soulfully.

"Don't worry darling. If I achieve anything in New Orleans, it will be to change that. I swear to you. Guide's honour."

She chortled down the phone. "Were you even a Guide?"

"Damn right. Patrol Leader of the Poppy patrol. My word is my bond. I will bring you Jasper on a plate. Possibly with a garnish."

"Ok, this is weird enough for one day. Go to bed. Sweet dreams."

She rang off leaving me to follow her advice. As I hit the pillow, the last thing running through my mind was how to make good on my promise. They would be perfect together!


	12. Never make plans if under the influence

I woke up with a start to find a man sitting on my bed.

"What the FUCK….!"

Emmett laughed gleefully. "I see age and gravity have been kind to you..."

Whipping the sheet across my (naked) body I sat up. Given that this was clearly not some kind of twisted dream, what was going on here?

"Oh Miss Irina let us in. She recognized Jasper, said "ooohhh…" and wanted to know if we could get her an invitation to the Rex Ball next Mardi Gras season. She'll apparently do anything for us."

This was getting ridiculous.

"But why are you here?"

"Get your kit on, we're going up to the fishing camp, remember?"

Honestly no… yesterday's conversations were lost forever, blurred with a lethal combination of alcohol and overindulgence. I was buggered if I was going to admit to that though.

"I haven't brought anything to wear."The last time I had been shooting, I had been scowled at for not having the standard horrendous-but-socially- acceptable kit in shades of green tweed.

"Darlin, trust me, huntin' in the Great State of Looosiana is a whole different kettle of fish" drawled Jasper from the doorway.

"Bloody hell, is anyone not in my bedroom?"

"Well technically, I'm in the hall" called Rose. "Do you realise that you have a magazine stuck to your back? Honestly, I had you down as an intellectual but clearly I was wrong."

Igroped around my back and peeled off the offending article. National Enquirer. Great. My guilty secret revealed.

Enough! "All of you bugger off until I am decent. Make something strong with caffeine in it and then we'll talk." I ordered, amazed that they followed my request without demur.

Copious amounts of Community Coffee later, I was compos mentis and ready to go when I suddenly remembered Alice and my promise to 'debrief' her properly which sounded vaguely military and extremely kinky.

"Oh bollocks. I promised to see a girlfriend.'"

"Never mind" called Emmett, arse deep in the boot of the car, "if she's pretty, bring her too. The more the merrier."

"Stunning but I can't just turn up with extra people…"

"Darlin' trust me, ain't no one gonna notice."

'"God Emmett" purred Rose, "I love it when you talk country."

"Later sugar, you and me's gonna go for a little stroll and I'll show you more than just my red-neck.."

"Oh fucking hell, it is far too early for that particular image!" I cringed.

"You have no idea" called Rose, "the further we get from New Orleans, the worse this gets. You can see the brain-cells scattering all along the I10 highway. By the time we get to Opelousas, you'll be driving with the Louisiana version of Beau Duke."

"Well now if you dressed like Daisy, I'd accept that" growled Emmett.

"In your dreams. Actually, pervert that you are, that could be true… no, shut up, I don't even want to know" she laughed, covering her face with her hands as Emmett opened his mouth, no doubt to provide graphic details of his "Dukes of Hazzard" fantasies.

As this interchange was threatening to end in them either shagging or killing each other, I sloped off to call Alice.

"Tell me you love me."

"Buy more dresses and I'll tell you anything you like!"

"We're going up to Jasper's fishing camp. Now. Start packing."

"Are you still drunk? I can't just pick up and go. And even if I could… what the HELL would I wear? Seducing kit and fishing definitely don't mix. No, hang on, where is it…'

I could hear her tearing around the shop, no doubt flinging finery into the air.

"Alice. Shut the heck up. Be outside in half an hour. Enough waiting and admiring from a distance, this is your Jasper moment."

An hour later (apparently half an hour means something else in Alice Land) we were en route. Interestingly, Jasper had become super-debonair when we collected Alice, practically kissing her hand. If he'd been wearing a hat, he'd have tipped it.

The drive was fabulous. Emmett took the speed limit as a personal affront and caned his way down the highway. As an added bonus, he insisted on playing what he described as "the definitive Southern playlist" which started with Garth Brookes "Calling Baton Rouge", took a detour through Skynard's '"Sweet Home Alabama" and somehow ended with the "Summer of 69" ("Admittedly not Southern but my favourite number" he sniggered, earning himself a stern glare from Rose)

We pulled into the camp which didn't fit my definition of camp in any way shape or form. Set up on the bayou, the main house opened into an incredibly airy lobby decorated with Mexican rugs and a terrifying quantity of mounted fish. Despite the preponderance of glazed eyes, the overall effect was bizarrely welcoming.

We walked through into the vast sitting room, dominated by worn leather sofas and an enormous, rustic wooden table at the end of which clustered a battalion of bottles. Bending over the latter was a jean-clad man. I couldn't see his face but damn if he was as good looking as his bum then he must be a God. Jesus, I was turning into some sex-obsessed maniac. Ogling strange men. Not good.

Turning to put my bag on the floor, I missed the first introductions. I straightened up, the remains of my hangover making an unwelcome reappearance. As I lifted my head and settled my eyes, the sight before me made me wish I had spent more time getting dressed.

There, in all his glory, stood Edward.


	13. Why Dali was right

I gazed across the room at Edward, the man who had haunted my dreams for so long.

I had never really seen the sense of Dali's melting clocks and authors who used the phrase "time stood still" made me sigh. I was wrong; they were right; time was elastic. It was a though the wicked witch had waved her evil wand and time had stopped. I was frozen to the spot with the world pausing around me. Edward appeared to have been petrified and was staring at me with a spreading expression of incredulity on his face. I had a less glamourous reaction and I am pretty sure that I was dribbling.

"So here we all are" said Emmett a little too brightly. Edward turned, fixed him with a glare and said in a low, hissing voice, "Emmett, what have you done?"

I was mortified. What had I expected? To be welcomed with open arms when I finally met him? Actually, yes. In my mind, he would see me, realise immediately what a fool he had been and would sweep me up into a life of moonlight and magnolias. I was deluded. And stuck miles out of town in the middle of a swamp. Bloody brilliant.

Edward visibly shook himself and swivelled round to face me.

"Well now, I can't say that I was expecting this but I am sure that, after a stiff drink, seeing you after all this time will be a good thing."

Now that was cryptic. I leapt on the drink reference like a drowning man on a life-raft. I wasn't alone, Jasper practically threw himself at the regiment of bottles clustered on the table and grabbed the nearest one. Brandishing it in the air, he offered it to me.

"Midori?" I shuddered, "seriously? I don't think so but I will go and drop my bag somewhere if you don't mind."

"Of course darlin'. Girls follow me."

And with than he whisked us all off down a long corridor where white painted floor boards stretched out to a vast window which framed a view of the treacle-like river. Glowing honey wood doorframes were interspersed with bright hangings and fading pictures of laughing family members. I caught sight of a younger Jasper wearing a truly horrendous pair of flared dungarees, his arm firmly gripping what appeared to be a small pig. Odd, but touching.

"You're in here, sugar" he announced to me, opening a door and bowing like a cut price doorman. With a sweeping arm he gestured me into a large room, decorated in in more tarten than I'd ever seen outside Edinburgh. curtains, counterpart and even the carpet paid a silent tribute to Scotland. I was stunned.

"Well thank you sir" I managed, desperate to get in, close the door, through myself on the Black Watch covered bed and start blubbing.

"And don't think you're going to slope off to wail" called Alice. "I have the perfect kit and I want to fish."

Alone in my room, I collapsed on to the bed and contemplated the complete disaster that my life had suddenly become. Not only had Edward clearly been horrified that I was here but I would now appear to be some kind of psycho hose beast stalker who had tracked him to the middle of nowhere, knowing that he couldn't just bolt. What had I been thinking? I was an intelligent woman who was trying to live some kind of twisted fantasy. I had definitely watched too many Hugh Grant films. My belief that things would somehow work out was founded on nothing more than schmaltzy sentiment.

Just before I started really spiralling into self-loathing, I was interrupted by a banging on the door. Without pause for my answer, it swung open and there, in all his glory, stood Edward.

"May I come in?"

I sat up on the bed and desperately tried to gather the shreds of my tattered dignity around me. I nodded, silently,

He loped in, closed the door and sat down next to me. I could feel my heart starting to pound as he slowly reached out his hand and stroked my hair.

"I hurt you. Again. I am so sorry. You were the last person I was expecting. When Emmett said he had a surprise, I had assumed that he had a new gun to play with."

"That's me. Firearm substitute to the gentry."

He sighed and stretched. God but he was glorious.

"Let's start again. Welcome to Louisiana."

What on earth was I supposed to say now? How have you been for the last seventeen odd years? The speeches I had practised for this very moment had all vanished for my brain and all I managed was a barely coherent; "thank you."

"I've wanted to talk to you for so long, I know I behaved badly. Seems to be a theme. I have to explain…"

This was it, the moment of truth. I took a deep breath.

BANG. The door flew open again, smacking into the woodwork, and there stood Alice, wearing what can only be described as a camo body suit. What the buggery was going on here?

"Ready for fishin'?" She called gaily. "I've got my poles..."

Behind her, I saw Jasper and Emmet doubled up with laughter. She spun around

"Jasper, I can do things with a pole that will make your eyes pop."

He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering over her curves. "I bet you can."

"We will talk" promised Edward, looking straight into my eyes in a way which made my knees weak. Thank God I was sitting down. He pulled me up.

"And for now, let's fish!"


	14. Fish holes and Revelations

**This is a bit longer than normal! Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments, I am thrilled that people are reading! I know that I meander a bit, isn't that how life and our minds work? This isn't a 'wham-bam- thank you ma'am' story (nothing wrong with a bit of that though!) but we will get there! Thank you again for your patience, support and amazing reviews!**

This day could only get odder if aliens descended from the sky. As the muddy brown water flowed sluggishly past, I contemplated the events of the last month. I had left my husband, realised that he had been as miserable as I was, come to Louisiana on a wild goose chase to recover the love of my life, met a top girl who promised to be a life-long friend, literally bumped into wonderful friends and met the aforementioned man who appeared to be in the process of getting married to a flame haired temptress. I took a deep breath. If this were a novel, no one would believe it.

I glanced surreptitiously under my eye lashes to where Edward was sitting. He was extraordinary. In London, he'd seemed part of the scenery and here he looked as though he had been born on the Bayou. I had been married for Toby for fifteen years and even in the countryside he'd always looked as though he'd been mentally wearing pinstripes.

The day had been brilliant and we had effortlessly fallen back into old friendships with our relationships expanding to make room for Rose and Alice. We had caught the ugliest looking fish I had ever had the misfortune to see, hairy and goggle eyed, which Jasper promised were utterly delicious, 'better than sex'. I wasn't the only one who heard Alice saying "not with me, sugar" based on the fiery look he had given her. Catfish might not be the only prey she caught today.

The jolt of seeing Edward had left me dazed. Imagine thinking of, no yearning for someone for seventeen odd years and then not only seeing them but being plunged back into their world. Admittedly, I had made strenuous efforts to be in this situation but the shock still took some processing.

As the afternoon had progressed, I had stopped seeing Edward as the dream man from my past and he had taken on form. In my early twenties, I had been in awe of his talents. He had excelled at everything and a golden aura had hung around him. In comparison, I had felt dim and colourless. I wasn't going to be that love-struck baby again.

I had changed, life in the City where golden boys were ten a penny, had opened my eyes. Imagine, within a square mile were crammed the top performers from the most competitive universities in the world (and assorted hangers on!) There were a hundred Edwards, each gorgeous, talented and compelling and I could deal with any of them. But there was only one of MY Edward.

He had grown up. The confidence was still there but it had been tempered by a gentleness which was profoundly attractive. He was in charge and the boys followed his lead but he was more thoughtful than before. In the past, he would have plunged into any adventure and to hell with the consequences but now, Emmett's suggestion that we get a couple of guns out and see what we could bag was met with a quiet 'great idea, maybe when we aren't so tired?'

Sitting on the dock, sorting out my reel, I felt the boards creak behind me and didn't need to turn to know that Edward was behind me.

"Can I sit?"

"You can of course, but whether you may or not is another matter!" God what was wrong with me? I was channeling Mary Poppins.

With a laugh he installed himself a respectable distance away from me. Damn.

"I always loved that about you. You have a come-back for everything"

"It wasn't enough though, was it?"

"No." He paused. "Well, yes, actually. It's complicated. No, it isn't. Here's the thing…"

I couldn't breathe. Whatever was coming, I had travelled a long way to hear.

"I loved you. You were so bright and full of life. Sometimes I would just look at you and know that you wouldn't stay with me."

What? I must have misheard. That was my line.

'Bollocks.'

"No really. You don't know much about my background. I thought that I could start again in London without feeling like a failure."

"Edward, you were top of the year at King's College, you slayed them on the polo field and you basically had every girl in SW3 ripping off her knickers every time you deigned to glance their way. I don't see failure anywhere there. This makes no sense."

"I failed with you." He looked directly at me, his eyes searching my face. I don't know what he was hoping to see but he turned away.

"Yes you bloody did. You broke my heart and not only that but you took away friends I loved. For years, I didn't understand why. I still don't. I was obviously never good enough. And then I met Toby. He was safe, he supported me and, in his own way, helped me to rebuild."

"Toby?"

"My husband."

His shoulders sagged.

"No, actually soon- to be ex-husband. Anyway, the main point is that you behaved like a heartless bastard and I really don't buy the loser story. I've waited years to know the truth and you're just lying like a demon."

I was really winding myself up, so much for a romantic reunion.

"Bollocks!" I added again for good measure.

I hefted myself to my feet. I was buggered if I was going to sit around and hear this kind of rubbish. Maybe a twenty year old me would have fallen for it, would have wanted to protect him, but that feeble version of me no longer existed.

"Listen!" He leapt to his feet, grabbing me and pulling me to him. I could smell the heady mixture of sweat, cologne and boat oil and could feel myself tensing with lust. I was weird.

"I loved you. I was scared. I was young and really stupid and all I could see was that if I stayed we would have got married and then I would have destroyed you the way my father had destroyed my mother."

"Got married? Are you insane? I was twenty one and living in Kensington, not Kentucky."

"You were mine; there was no way I would have let you go. I had to leave."

Bloody hell, from Dr Phil to Dominant in one sentence. This was a lot to take in. Like Scarlett, I would think about it tomorrow. For now, I breathed in the Edward-scent which had haunted my dreams. I could feel the hard bulk of his muscles through his shirt and his strong arms pulled me close.

"You were mine, you are mine." He mumbled into the top of my head.

I came to my senses and pushed him away. No, I was not going to be a slave to lust.

"Edward, you can't just start spouting that kind of nonsense. Firstly, I haven't seen you for seventeen years and to be brutally honest your reasons for leaving me are a bit shoddy to say the least. Secondly, you have no idea what I am now and you are a total blank canvas to me. And finally, most importantly of all, you're about to get married!"

And with that, I stalked off up the path. He ran up behind me, holding me and twirling me around. His face was close to mine, his eyes holding my gaze. Oh God, he was going to kiss me and then I would really be lost. He pulled back.

"Married?"


	15. Truth or Pleasure?

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Edward drew his face away from mine, his hands tight on my upper arms. The night was gathering in and his face was in shadow. Even at close distance, I couldn't work out his expression.

"Married?" he repeated in a dazed voice.

"Yes married." I snapped, "or at least about to be. I saw you at church, in St Patrick's to be precise with a ginger girl.' I paused, looking for a reaction but he was silent, which just added fuel to my anger. I launched back in, 'and you have the temerity to look me in the eye and make up desperate rubbish about your undying devotion to me. You must think that I've crawled out from under a cabbage leaf."

He pulled me close and gazed at me. Despite my fury, it was all I could do to hold myself back. His glorious eyes were shining with … mirth? Bloody hell, I wasn't having that.

"You think this is funny? That you can make light of my feelings? Isn't it enough that you ripped me apart and then vanished, leaving me broken?" I was winding myself up into what Granny referred to as a 'complete paddy.'

"Stop!"

And, kicking myself for being such a lightweight, I did. God, he still had that power. All he had to do was command and there I was, melting in front of him. I could feel my body heating up. He was utterly irresistible. I had put my desire to be dominated locked away in a box for years, persuading myself that I had outgrown the need to be controlled but always yearning to experience the complete freedom of submitting just one more time. And here it was, one word and I was practically on my knees with lust. Pathetic.

"You will listen and I will explain. I'm not married, not now, not almost, not at all. You saw me with Victoria. She's a friend. That's it."

"Then what on earth were you doing in church looking like the cat that'd got the cream?" I enquirer sceptically.

"She's converting to Catholicism. I'm her.. um.. Godfather I suppose."

Godfather? What? This was sounding more and more like a farce by the second. I burst out laughing. The image of Edward holding the stunning red head over a font… And as the image grew, my giggles died as I suddenly remembered a summer's night in London. We were lying in the flat and it was roasting hot. One of those glorious hot English days which come so rarely and leave us utterly unprepared. At one o'clock, Edward leapt up in bed, his body glistening with sweat.

"Get dressed, I have a plan" he'd announced.

Grabbing my hand, he'd dragged me out into the velvet night. Despite the time, the pavements still held the heat of the day. We ran over Albert Bridge; the ornate, soaring wedding-cake structure was lit up with twinkling fairy lights whose reflection sparked in the dark Thames water. One day, I vowed, I will drive over this bridge in my wedding dress.

Edward hoisted me over the railings of Battersea Park and I walked over the grass carrying my shoes. The lawn was damp and fragrant under my bare feet. Bliss. We wandered through the dark shadows of the trees towards the lake.

"Do you trust me?" He'd asked, his face serious.

I hadn't had to think, my reply was automatic: "Always."

"Good." He'd grind t me. "Take your kit off, we're going swimming!"

And we did; Naked in the middle of Battersea Park. The lake water was silky against my skin and, in the distance; I could see the swans gliding through the bushes as I floated against Edward's muscular chest. It was glorious, and illegal, and probably a health risk but for that moment, I felt as though life was giving me all I could ever need.

"Hey, come back to me! What are you thinking about darlin'?"

"Battersea Park." I blushed even as I said it, the memory of his muscular body and the contrast between the cool water and the warmth of his body making me alive with long hidden emotions.

"Oh…." His eyes lit up and that was it. Wrapping his arms around me, he lowered his face to mine. His kiss was questing, hesitant but swiftly deepened, reaching into my very soul. I poured all my need and all my hurt into our embrace. He pulled me closer and closer, his arms stroking my back and reaching down to my hips. I could feel him growing against me. Oh my goodness, take me now.

"HEY! Do I need to get the hosepipe? Y'all are lowering the moral tone of the camp" bellowed a voice.

"Fuck off, Jasper!" called Edward. Gathering me into his side, he bent down and whispered. "This is not over. We will talk."

The lust induced haze cleared, leaving me mortified. I hadn't even bothered to get an explanation. Less than a day of seeing Edward again and I was behaving like a total slapper. Emerging through the fog of shame was a sharp ray of glee. I was going to hell in a handbasket, no doubt, but by God I was going to enjoy the process.

We walked slowly to where Jasper was silhouetted against the light spilling out of the double doors. I hung my head but I was really fighting the grin of utter joy which was threatening to split my face in two. I felt like bursting into song. This was far too good to be true but I was going to enjoy it for all I could while it lasted. All that stuff about leaving because he wasn't good enough for me? Clearly bollocks but I was willing to believe the fantasy he was peddling at least until reality kicked in. An hour of Edward was worth it.

As we reached the porch, Jasper pointed a single finger at Edward.

"Well now, does this mean that you're going to stop whining like a stuck pig about the one that got away every time you get drunk?" He asked.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer." He aimed a kick at Jasper as he went past and, within seconds, the two were wresting on the wooden slats of the deck. I stood well back in the shadows, breathing in the night air and trying to process what I had just heard.

Maybe Edward's story wasn't such a tissue of lies after all…


	16. Like a dog with a bone

I had no sooner got into my room when the door burst open and Alice burst in, swiftly followed by Rosalie. Both of them looked at me, Alice with absolute wonder and Rosalie as though she couldn't decide whether to kiss or kick me.

"Well you are a dark horse!" Rosalie started, "fresh off the boat and you have Louisiana's most eligible bachelor practically on his knees."

"Well not quite his knees," said Alice darkly, "although if Jasper hadn't joined in, I suspect that you'd have been in the bushes in minutes."

"How dare you?" I asked feebly.

"Don't even start darlin'. Wanton and shameless, hmm?"

I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes were huge and I had a look of someone who had been seriously pleasured. I was drunk with lust. They were right. I was pathetic. So much for wanting and waiting for explanations. Edward had crooked his little finger and I had come running. I turned to them.

"You know, all those years I was married to Toby, all I could think of was what I had lost when Edward went. It wasn't that Toby was a bad person but my life was so grey. I'd go to work, scream at people in the office, come home, cook and then sit across the table watching him get drunk. The scariest thing of all was that I found myself being dragged into it. I'd wake up, half hungover and the whole miserable process would start again. I felt as though I was buried alive and the last time I had really felt anything other than numbness was with Edward. When I was with him, it was as though my entire life was in technicolour."

Rosalie gazed at me. "You weren't the only one to lose any zest for life…" she said slowly."'Oh don't get me wrong, Edward worked his way through society like a dose of salts. There isn't a girl over twenty one and under fifty that he hasn't been with."

"Actually, I have it on good authority that he shagged my Aunt and she is at least sixty two" interjected Alice, helpfully. I wasn't sure how I felt about this revelation but I had hardly been living the life of a nun so who was I to judge?

"Anyway. The point is this" said Rose, fixing her with a stern look, "everyone thought that he would settle down but we know him and it was never going to happen. Strictly surface level relationships. Hell, I grew up with Edward and I understand him better than I know myself. He's been acting a part for years. He came back from London changed. I never could work out why but the pieces are falling into place."

"No,I won't feel sorry for him," I said loudly, "it was his decision to leave me and the consequences are his alone. He dropped me like a hot coal.' I snapped. ' He broke up with me on New Year's Eve morning in bloody Scotland of all places. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of judgemental strangers, all desperate to sort him out with one of their daughters. I was clearly not good enough either for him or them. I cried all the way down on the train, eight hours straight. It was the worse day of my life and I thought I'd never recover. But I did... Well no, I really didn't and I still don't know why he did it." I could feel the tears starting in my eyes and wiped them away with the back of my hand.

"I have a fair idea' said Rosalie, grimly, 'but it isn't my story. You have to trust him though. He is a good man and he has been holding a candle for you."

"Whilst shagging anything that wasn't pinned down?" I asked archly.

"Weeelll … who wouldn't have a go at that, given the chance?" sniggered Alice. "A fine slice of a man…"

"Well yes, missy, shall we examine your morals? I see you looking at Jasper like a dog at a bone." Rosalie whipped her head around to gaze at Alice as though seeing her for the first time.

"Wouldn't mind a bit of his bone" Alice muttered.

"Ok pervert, and on that note, let me wash the fish scales off and start drinking heavily." I requested.

With protests, I bundled them both out of the door. Alone at last in the shower, I luxuriated under the powerful blasts of the water.

It was all too much. I had come to Louisiana hoping for some kind of closure. In the depths of my heart, I had hoped that Edward would still remember me, love me in some way. The reality of his declaration was the stuff of dreams. These things didn't happen to me. My natural mistrust rose to the surface. After all, he had dumped me once out of the blue and there was still this mysterious Victoria figure. God-daughter my arse. But Rosalie and Jasper had both hinted that Edward was genuine in his feelings. It was all too much.

No.. stop.. I shouted at myself. You've come all this way to find out what happened. Have bit of gumption and bloody well find out. One thing was clear, I couldn't move on unless I knew why I had been abandoned. As for any new relationship, no way in hell was I going to jump back into that frying pan without a serious explanation.

I had been through a lot and a fifteen year marriage had jaded me. Love was for other people. The whole fairy tale thing wasn't true and Disney had an awful lot to answer for. I would find out from Edward what had really happened and then we would see.

With new resolve and smelling an awful lot less fishy, I dressed carefully and launched myself into the fray. Tonight was going to be fun and tomorrow the serious unravelling of secrets would begin.


	17. Killer cocktails and reminiscences

I wandered out of my room trembling with the anticipation of seeing Edward again. Every time I thought back to our kiss, I wanted to grin like a lunatic. I had apparently shed most of my braincells as well as my morals and had transformed from an intelligent woman into a bimbo-esque teenager. I couldn't wait to see Edward. My natural cynicism warned me that we couldn't just ignore the past. A few minor inconveniences, including the fact that he had walked out on me, cut me out of his life and then had no contact with me for the past seventeen years would need to be addressed but not tonight. I wanted just one night of Edward body and (possibly) soul. I would leave sensible me locked away and embrace a romantic dream. Just for one night I reminded myself, wondering who exactly I was trying to fool.

The main room of the house was lit with a hundred candles. I hadn't noticed before but a massive chandelier hung up in the rafters. It looked as though it was made of a hundred pieces of driftwood. On closer inspection, I realised that no wood was involved; the whole thing was made from deer antlers.

"What can I say? My mother believes in pushing a decorating theme beyond the bounds of sanity" sighed Jasper wryly. "That thing is just the tip of the iceberg, you should see the gun room."

We wandered over to the end of the table where Emmett appeared to be attempting to combine every kind of alcohol in one glass.

"You remember my cocktails Little Momma?" he asked.

"Vividly."

I shuddered, thinking back to the carnage which had been the morning after my housewarming party. I had wanted to host a quiet dinner, just a few friends, a couple of bottles of decent wine and civilised conversation. Instead, the night had started with Emmett making a drink that he described as "a leg opener" which should have been a warning sign, and degenerated rapidly into the girl of the moment dancing on my coffee table, egged on by the boys.

"I wonder what happened to Fran" I mused idly, "she just vanished after that night." I looked up to see both Jasper and Emmett looking shifty.

"Well… we may or may not have got a bit carried away…" started Emmett.

"A bit?" added Jasper. "Ok. So after we left your party, we walked down the King's Road. It was pretty hot by the time we got to Sloane Square so Emmett bet Fran that she wouldn't go paddling in the fountain. Only we were pretty drunk by then and when she started ripping her clothes off, we thought it was hilarious. Next thing was, she was stark naked and cavorting like a demented water nymph in the middle of Chelsea. It took about five minutes before the police showed up and we all got arrested."

I was on the floor with laughter. Poor Fran.

"We went round the next day to see her and her father basically opened the door with a shot gun and said that if we ever wanted to graduate, we should stay the hell away from his daughter. Did you know that he was the head of the law department?"

As I doubled over with laughter, I noticed that Alice was discretely trying to hide her glass behind a plant. Very wise.

And then, for me, everything stopped, and Edward walked in, magnificent in a white shirt and khaki trousers. I couldn't see anything but him as he strode across the room and stood before me. I caught my breath and basked in the heat of his gaze.

"You are looking lovelier by the hour" he whispered.

"No!" bellowed Emmett "stop with the romance. This is a night for fun."

"Emmett, leave him alone" hissed Rose, "can't you see he's happy in the first time for years. I for one am fed up with his brooding and a bit of frivolity is a massive bonus."

I stored this piece of information away for later. I was used to brooding. Toby, my (hurrah!) soon-to-be-ex-husband had specialized in the silent treatment for anything he deemed to be a slight. When we had first got married, I had gone to great lengths to appease him, apologizing for everything even when I was bemused about what kind of offence I had supposedly committed. It was like walking on eggshells. Towards the end of our marriage, I had let him stew and had carried on with my life. The first time I had decided to ignore his sulks had been miserable as I fought my natural impulse to keep the peace, the second time less so and eventually we were leading such separate, lonely lives, that I no longer felt the hurt.

Edward was watching my reactions as I thought about the wasteland which had been my marriage. He reached out and stroked my face. I tried not to flinch. I have always had some facial hair, nothing dramatic but it did get worse as I grew older and my hormones danced a wild tango instead of being calm and well behaved. I had never really thought about until one day when Toby had said that it "put him off." Since then, I had put myself through the excruciating pain of electrolysis, the agony of wax and, more recently, the sharp burn of lasers. Pain free my foot.

I waiting for Edward to pull his hand away and look horrified. He didn't.

"More beautiful than ever" he reiterated. Emmett meanwhile was making sick sounds in the background.

"How the hell did you get to be such a prominent banker? You behave like a ten year old" called Alice from across the room. "No, hold on, could it possibly be anything to do with the fact that your family own the bank?"

"No way honey. I am a natural genius and no nepotism was involved" laughed Emmett. He had clearly not lost his ability to poke fun at life.

We sat down on the sofas and looked at each other.

"This is so surreal…" Jasper started, "it's like being transported back to London."

"I wasn't in London" said Rose tartly, "nor was Alice."

"And a bloody good thing too," I said quickly. "These two behaved shamelessly You'd have run a mile."

"I didn't!" claimed Emmett, "that was all Jasper."

"Actually" drawled Rose, "from the little that I've pieced together over the years, I don't think you were living the life of a monk."

"What can I say? I had needs. And I was waiting for you, the love of my life." He leant over and gathered Rose up into a close embrace. Edward threw a cushion at them.

"Knock it off you two, you're insatiable," he called.

Rose grinned. Neither denied the accusation.

The night was glorious, full of light and fun as we talked over old times in London and the boys' more recent escapades. Alice had us in stitches imitating some of her more demanding clients.

"So she bought a dress on Monday, wore it to the Art in Flowers fundraiser on Tuesday, where I saw her, was pictured in the Times Pic on Wednesday and brought the dress back in on Thursday claiming that it didn't fit so she wanted a refund. I showed her the picture and said "well that's amazing, looks like it fitted at the beginning of the week. Maybe you have water retention?" I haven't seen her since!"

The tension between Edward and I was growing. He sat close to me, occasionally stroking my hand. I had forgotten his habit of lifting strands of my hair and letting it play through his fingers. I could feel myself melting into him and the heat building up in my body. More of this and I would leap on him in front of everyone. Managing to rip myself away from Edward's magical hands, I noticed that Alice and Jasper seemed to be getting closer. He was stretched out at one end of a sofa with his boots on the table. She was curled up at the opposite end. Every now and again, he'd stretch out an arm along the back of the sofa and she seemed to be inching towards him.

Edward stood up with a yawn. "I am all in. We're up in the morning early, right?"

"Damn right, not missing the ducks." Emmett shot out of the sofa and, dragging Rose by the hand, tore off towards their room.

Turning to me, Edward held out his hand. "Fancy a quick wander around outside before bed?" My stomach clenched and I could feel te desire rising through my body and see the promise in his eyes.

"Wander around? That's what they're callin' it now son?" drawled Jasper.

Edward ignored him, took my and and we walked out into the warm Louisiana night. I felt, for the first time in years, as though I was exactly where I should be. With him.


	18. Hurt and Healing

**Author's note – This is not going to be a happy revelation and there will be references to domestic violence. Sensitive souls should steer clear. There will be happiness to come but life is never all smooth sailing.**

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In the novel of my dreams, Edward and I would have strolled romantically around the grounds, admiring the stars which he would have compared to my eyes, possibly quoting an Elizabethan sonnet whilst stroking my hair. In reality, the Louisiana night was pitch black and ominous clouds had rolled in, hiding any chance of a moon. Rather than being immersed in tranquil silence, there was a racket going on which gave the impression that every raucous beast within a ten mile radius had decided to have a party in the bushes.

"Shall we go for a walk?" he suggested.

"You have to be bloody kidding me. We wouldn't make it five yards before being eaten by something horrific." Admittedly not the most romantic of responses but my parents wouldn't be best pleased if my remains were home in a small parcel.

"Not a problem."

Hooking a bunch of keys from a rack on the deck, he grabbed my hand and led me towards a golf cart. I hadn't noticed it because somebody had thought that painting it in camo and sticking a pair of horns on the front was a good idea. Trust Jasper, he had always had a bit of a wild-west fetish. In London, he had gone through a stage of wearing a cowboy hat which had the result of making previously sensible girls turn into gibbering lunatics and throw themselves at him. I couldn't judge, Edward's beaten up Dan Post boots and worn jeans had made me want to ravish him on the spot. The Marlboro man had a lot to answer for in our collective psyche.

We got into the strange vehicle and set off, bumping gently along the gravel paths. The crunching sounds of the tyres churning up stones competed with the discordant chorus of the cicadas. Not quite bluebirds and choirs of angels but I was willing to take what I could, particularly as Edward was driving with one hand and the other was resting firmly on my leg.

Abruptly, he stopped the cart and turned to me. I could see worry creasing his eyes and I knew that what was coming wasn't going to be good. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for pain.

"You never met my family," he started.

Nope, and every time I had every started to talk about them, he had deftly changed the subject. I hadn't noticed at first, wrapped up as I was in the cocoon of our love, and later I had learned that pushing the topic got me nothing but avoidance tactics.

He continued;

"To say that my father isn't very nice is like describing a cobra as "slightly harmful." He was a total bastard. Our house when I was growing up was a war zone. When he wasn't drinking, he would spend the evenings looking for ways to belittle my mother. She was the most wonderful, gentle creature and I watched her fading away. When I was small, she used to make a game of his rages. We'd hide in a room and play at being on an island where no one was allowed to speak and everything had to be done by sign language. It was our own secret world and I only realised later that she was trying to prevent him from finding us. To my eternal shame, I couldn't protect her. I tried. I really did. I hid the whisky and that got me nothing but a beating. The only time I put myself between him and her, he gave me such a backhander that his signet ring cut my face open."

Pausing, he pointed to small mark under his eye where the skin was light and shiny. I leant over and kissed it carefully. I wanted to wrap myself around the boy inside the man and protect him from the world. He turned towards me, his jaw tight.

"I want nothing more than to lose myself in you but I need to finish." Disentangling himself gently, he leaned away from me, his hands clenching his hair.

"It got worse as I grew older and he graduated to sharing the abuse between me and my mother. I felt so guilty, as though it was my fault. The only person who knew how bad things had become was my uncle Carlisle and even he only saw the tip of the iceberg. He arrived at the house one evening just as my father had started a tirade about how useless we were, that I was a pathetic disgrace to the family name and that my poor little mother was a waste of space. He burst into the room, grabbed my father by the shoulder and shook him like a dog. After that, Carlisle became our saviour, his house was the only haven we could retreat to. He tried everything he could to get my father to dry out but it was like telling a fish to stay away from the water and all that happened was that his interventions fed my father's anger. Later, Jasper and Emmett found out after they saw me getting changed and saw the belt marks on my back. The worst part of the whole nightmare was that I was powerless to help my mother."

Jesus. This was terrible. I had no idea that the confident golden child was hiding such a horrific past. I had seen the gentle, protective side of Edward. His desire to shield me from any drama had always been touching but a bit exaggerated. Now I understood.

"But why didn't anyone realise what was going on? Surely there were neighbours?"

He smiled, sadly.

"I never really told you about my life here. We lived in the middle of our land and had quite a lot of it. The nearest neighbours were miles away and you could have set off a cannon and no one would have heard. The only people anywhere near were the staff and they weren't going to interfere. They'd seen my father grow up and to them he was a god. He was careful never to be seen abusing us and in front of company he was a good old boy, bursting with vitality, who attracted people to him like a magnet."

That explained an awful lot. My heart ached for the lonely child and his tormented mother. I felt tears running down my face and he reached over and wiped them away with his fingers. I didn't dare ask where his parents were now, his use of the past tense told me everything I needed to know.

Taking a deep breath, he continued:

"My mother died of cancer when I was thirteen. I had two years of complete hell alone with my father before he died too. Car crash. The funeral was enormous, it seemed like half of Louisiana came. All I could think of as I was sitting there, listening to stories about how wonderful Edward Senior had been was: "thank God the bastard is gone." I was so torn up. Carlisle stepped in and picked up the pieces. When he met his wife, Esme, she folded me into their love and became the rock my own darling mother had never been allowed to be."

"They sound amazing" I said, my words inadequate under the weight of his revelations.

"They are. You will adore them." His certainty shone out.

He held my face in both hands, looking deep into my eyes. His voice grew quieter.

"When I met you, I knew that I had found my own rock. Your zest for life, your compassion, the way that you looked after Jasper, Emmett and I like your family. I was terrified that I was going to turn into my father and destroy you, so I ran. I couldn't do to you what he did to my mother. I am the child of a monster."

This had gone far enough. He was torturing himself.

"No Edward," I said gently, "you are the son of a generous and loving mother and a damaged, twisted man. That does not make you a monster. Do you really think that you would hurt me? Do you really think that I would let you? I'm not your mother. You never hurt me, never slighted me, never disparaged me. Your presence was my light, when you vanished, it was as though I had been plunged into the darkness. Don't you see? You made me live, I existed for you and through you I was amazing. Alone, I was a shell. Would a monster be capable of that?" I paused.

He hung his head. Raising his face back to mine, I carried on.

"You will never hurt me. You are not your father, you are a wonderful, caring, sensitive man. The only hurtful thing you have ever done is running rather than telling me this seventeen years ago."

"Will you let me try again?"

I didn't answer him. Instead, I moved towards the man who was my life and kissed him, feeling his soft lips warming against mine and trying to pour all the love, hurt and (yes, I am pathetic) total lust I felt for him into our embrace. He held me tight, his arms encircling me and his calloused fingers stroking my neck. I shivered with the overwhelming sensations of sadness and my new desire to heal this broken man. I knew that it would take time but we could build on this. The wounds of seventeen years ago would heal and we could start again. I smiled into Edward's face. Joy blazed out of his eyes and his mouth sought out mine, exploring, reconnecting us. My hands reached into his shirt and stroked his soft skin. God he was glorious. And mine. He pulled away, leaving me feeling as though a part of me had gone.

"Much as though I would love to ravish you right here, the first time we make love…' he paused, looking at me with steely determination which made me dissolve with lust. 'And we will make love… We will be in a bed where I can take my time reacquainting myself with your heavenly body over and over again."

Edward was back. My man. Mine.


	19. The Morning After the Night Before

**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story – your encouragement and support is a wonderful tonic! New keyboard, hurrah for speech marks!**

I woke up and stretched out my arms. As my mind came back into focus, I ran over last night's events. After his stunning revelations, Edward had brought me back to the house and we had fallen asleep on my bed. At some point, he had got up. Rolling over, I buried my nose in his pillow, inhaling the scent of wood smoke and citrus which was uniquely his.

"Well that isn't weird at all!" a voice called from the doorway. What was wrong with people here? In England, a closed bedroom door was respected, here it seemed to be an invitation to barge straight in. Alice quickly crossed the room, throwing herself onto the bed and elbowing me in the side.

"You going to kiss and tell sugar?" she asked.

"Wait for me!" another voice interrupted, shattering the peace of my morning once and for all as Rose joined Alice on the bed. It was like Piccadilly Circus in here.

I thought quickly. There was no way in hell that I was going to break Edward's trust in me and the emotions of last night were still too raw and new.

"We sorted a lot out" I said, thoughtfully. "And that's all you're going to get."

"I am so glad" said Rose quietly. "He really is a good man and he's been through a hell of a lot."

Alice looked enquiring but kept quiet. Unfortunately for her, Rose's attention switched from me and her large blue eyes focused on Alice.

"And you, Missy. What are you playing at with Jasper? I saw you, all whispers and giggles."

Alice blushed. I thought briefly about rescuing her but I was pretty confident that Alice could hold her own.

"I love him,' she said simply. "Have done for years. He's never seemed to notice me before. These last few days have been the first time that I've been alone with him without that nasty crow Victoria Middler poking her oar in. He's all I expected and more. I know that it sounds insane but I think I've met my soulmate." She paused, looking up, almost fearful of our reaction. Again, Rose surprised me.

"Well I think you have too. I've known Jasper all my life and I have never seen him so grounded. Whatever you're doing, keep it going. He's had a lot of unhappiness which he may tell you about later but suffice it to say that Jasper isn't quite the carefree bundle of joy that he pretends to be."

As this was going on, I had managed to extricate myself from the bed and pull on my clothes. Glamourous I certainly wasn't but the girls were equally casual and we were, after all, in a fishing camp.

"If I don't get coffee really soon, I will not be responsible for my actions" I announced, possibly a tad over-dramatically. Laughing, the girls rolled off the bed and we wandered out in search of sustenance. Delicious scents were wafting out of the kitchen and I felt myself being magnetically drawn to a large pot of coffee warming on a side board. As I focused on inhaling the life saving drink, I heard Alice hiss behind me.

"Fucking hell, I don't fucking believe it!" Stunned by her lavish use of expletives at this time of the morning, I turned around and followed her horrified gaze. Standing in the doorway, wearing a cream silk shirt, soft suede trousers and looking like an escapee from a Ralph Lauren catalogue, stood Victoria, the stunning red head I had seen with Edward in the church.

"Well Miss Alice" she sang in a voice vibrant with sincerity, "It is so nice to see someone brave enough not to care about their appearance. You are so lucky to be so natural." She glanced over ostentatiously at her reflection in a convenient mirror. Patting her shiny hair, she continued, "I do hear that the boho look is all the rage now. I am so stuck in my ways, I just couldn't face people without brushing my hair."

Behind Victoria, a surprised looking Jasper was gazing at Alice. She froze, gazing longingly at him as tears shone in her eyes. He pushed past Victoria and gathered Alice into his arms.

"You look gorgeous. Don't ever change."

I caught my breath, she had definitely found her soulmate. Jasper had always defended those he loved. I glanced over to Victoria, her face contorted into a mask of range which swiftly disappeared behind a fake smile.

"Well aren't you two precious." Her gaze switched to me. "And who's your little friend?"

"This is the love of my life" Edward's voice came from the corridor. Only I could see rage returning in Victoria's face. She glared at me as though I was her mortal enemy. Great, stuck in a house with someone who clearly wanted me dead. This was not going to end well.


	20. A Margarita a day keeps the Doctor away!

After having dropped his bombshell and declared his undying devotion to me in front of all his friends and his putative 'God-daughter', Edward promptly took the coward's route and went fishing with Jasper and Emmett leaving me to face the unholy music.

Victoria had disappeared, leaving Rose, Alice and I to colonise the kitchen. The bright, homely room would have fitted perfectly into an English country house. The walls were painted white and half covered with a startling mixture of lemon yellow and cobalt blue tiles which looked vaguely Moroccan and clashed beautifully with the faded chintz sofas standing invitingly along the walls. Rose had unearthed a recipe book and we decided on an afternoon's baking. Apprently, in Louisiana, this translated as "an afternoon's serious drinking followed by cursory attempts at cake making." It was three o'clock and we were on our second blender of margaritas.

"God this world is small and getting smaller by the minute" started Alice, dipping her finger into the cake batter and sucking thoughtfully. "Victoria is my cross. Everywhere I go, she turns up as though she has some kind of tracking mechanism."

"Me too!" Rose chipped in. "She really is ubiquitous. The last time, I saw her at a dinner, I'd just come back from Shanghai where I had the most amazing Chinese cheung sam made. You know, those amazing fitted dresses with the slits up the side? Even though I say it myself, I looked pretty damn good. Cost me a fortune but worth every cent. Anyway, the red-headed bitch waiting until we were part of a big crowd, leant over to me and said: "You know, I've heard about those sweat-shop China dresses. Always remind me a bit of that film about the prostitute… what was it called? Suzy Wong? Yes that. Anyway, looks great on you and you don't look a bit cheap." I swear to God I almost went for her on the spot. I could definitely hear people laughing as I went past."

"Funny," I said, "why does she want to shoot you two down?"

"Easy!" Rose said "I know Alice doesn't believe me but Jasper's always had a soft spot for her. He is seriously shy that boy but he's definitely been admiring her from a distance. I have Emmett. She's jealous, Victoria just wants one of the Holy Trinity and doesn't care which member!"

"The what?" I gasped.

"Edward, Emmett and Jasper: The Holy Trinity, three Gods in one! I'm pretty sure it's sacrilegious but think about it. Drop dead handsome, rich as Croesus, invited everywhere, at home on the bayou or in the town and..." she paused to snigger and lowered her voice "I don't know about the other two but when Emmett has finished with me I swear I see the angels!"

We collapsed in laughter. I could distinctly hear Alice whispering "oh please God" as she rolled on the sofa, kicking her legs in the air like a beetle.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join in?" came a cold voice from the doorway. I straightened up to see Victoria, not a hair out of place and looking as though she was about to have a filling done.

"Sit down" I said, "fancy a drink?"

"At this time of the day? I think not." She said, scathingly, adding "I am shocked to see you drinking Rose, I thought you had more to you… although maybe you're reverting to type, wasn't your aunt famous for getting drunk at parties? Could it be inherited?" Her face twisted with fake concern. I noticed with glee that her forehead barely moved. Hurrah for Botox; no Oscar for you Victoria!

"Oh lighten up! Seriously, if we were to count the people who drink at most of New Orleans parties I've been to, I reckon we'd end up with almost 100% of attendees. Nothing wrong with kicking back " said Rose merrily, emptying another bottle into the blender.

With a face like she was sucking a lemon, Victoria requested a glass of water and turned her attention to me.

"So, you've just met Edward and suddenly you're the love of his life? Unlikely!" She added, dismissively, "I've known Edward my whole life and I've seen tramps like you come and go. "

Seriously, did she just call me a tramp? How old were we? I hadn't heard anyone say that since we'd been at boarding school and seriously addicted to Beverly Hills 90210. Stuck in the freezing Lake District and forced to wear a uniform whose only purpose was to make us look as unattractive as possible, Beverly Hills had seemed like another planet. Victoria mustn't be very bright if that was the best she could do.

"Victoria, you don't know me. I dated Edward in London for two years. If he says I am the love of his life then I'm going to take it." Pausing thoughtfully, I added "and if you dare call me that again, I will give you a slap that will make your veneers rattle." Yeeha. Score one for the Valley Girl!

I could see Rose and Alice desperately trying to bottle their laughter. Victoria seemed to gather herself up. She gave what could have passed for a sweet smile if the person seeing it wanted to be charitable. For me, it looked like the menacing grin of the piranha right before it attacks.

"Well anyway, tell me about your life. You're from London, what is your name?"

I couldn't see the harm in this so I started to fill her in about my life: where I lived, my career, even my address. She seemed to be fascinated by the details of my house ("and facing West? What number of the square would that be?") It was all a bit odd but better than cat fighting.

The afternoon passes without bloodshed but the merry mood had been soured. Miraculously, the boys returned fishless but soaking; their afternoon had apparently involved mud-wrestling. Now that, I would have paid good money to see! Edward was coated from head to toe in a thin layer of dirt. Regardless of this, he pulled me towards him and kissed me thoroughly, making me see stars before disappearing to the shower. Victoria had mercifully vanished.

We had a wonderful dinner, primarily because Victoria claimed that she had a headache and kept to her room. The tension between Alice and Jasper was definitely growing and I was fighting my desire to leap on Edward.

Sitting on the big leather sofa, I leant against him with my head on his chest. With one hand he stroked my hair, the other was wrapped firmly against me. From time to time, is thumb would graze the side of my breast and I felt myself growing languid. Lifting me gently, he gazed into my eyes and said "Shall we?" No answer was required.

Hand in hand, we walked slowly towards my room. I could hear Jasper and Alice talking softly behind us but my focus was all on the wonderful man next to me. His hand felt rough in mine and I stroked the callouses with my fingers. He was obviously still playing polo. My lust grew as I remembered the vision which was Edward on a horse: utterly fearless with his long thighs gripping the sides of his saddle and his muscles bulging as he swung his mallet. I almost exploded as the memories triggered heat in parts of my body that I had long forgotten about. The air was heavy with promise and only the presence of the others kept me from tearing his clothes off in the corridor...

Any chance of a reconciliation was scuppered though as I got to my room, opened the door and found Victoria ensconced in my bed. Pale and beautiful in a cream negligee, her hair was spread out around her like a fiery halo. She looked like a pre-Raphaelite painting. Shame she couldn't be drowned like the Lady of Shalott, I thought savagely.

Edward sighed and for an instant I wondered whether it was with frustration or desire for the figure in the bed. No, I couldn't think like that!

Behind me, Alice said "bloody cow. Come with me Bella, you can have the second bed. The boys are all sharing and I don't think tonight is the night for a show!"

Thwarted.


	21. Never wake up in a strange bed

**I LOVE your reviews! You are such stars and so encouraging! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Back to the Bayou…**

I wrapped my arm around the warm body next to me. "mmmmmm Edward " I sighed. Hang on. Edward wasn't soft and he certainly didn't have long hair.

"Rosalie!" I spluttered backing away into another warm body "Alice… what on earth?" Before I got much further a deep, strangled voice came from the foot of the bed.

"Oh Rose my darlin' you have no idea how many times I have pictured this very scene. Rose sugar, please pull off the sheets."

I opened my eyes. I was in bed with two women and three men were standing watching us. Emmett's looked like a child who'd just discovered his Christmas presents, Jasper looked dazed and Edward…. The heat in his eyes made me want to throw myself at him on the spot, audience be damned.

"Emmett you'll get the hell out of here right now if you ever want to see me in less than a snowsuit ever again. And take your two pervert cronies with you." Rose bellowed. Christ, she had a pair of lungs on her!

The boys bolted. I sat up and looked at my two sleeping companions.

"Do I even need to ask what you're doing here?"

"Well" began Rosalie sheepishly "I had a bit of a difference of opinion with Emmett regarding matters of a… ehm … personal nature."

"She wanted him to spank her and he said it'd make him think of his old nanny. She was sixty something and had the beginnings of a fine beard, bless her heart." piped up Alice, helpfully.

"So I stormed off" Rose continued, glaring at Alice" and came in here. You had the bigger bed so I joined you. I have to say, you didn't even notice; you were spark out."

"Frustration" I muttered, explaining about Victoria.

Alice chipped in "you should have seen her all spread out like a picture in _Virgin Brides_ magazine. "

I wondered idly if there such a magazine existed but decided that, if it did, I really didn't want to know why Alice read it!

"She really is a Friday turd on a Saturday market" Alice announced, making me howl with laughter. What an image.

"Oh my Lord, she is shameless! I once caught her sneaking upstairs and heading to our bedroom at one of our parties. God knows what she was thinking of but I soon told her to clear off. Last night notwithstanding, I know that Emmett would never look at another woman. Why would he?" she added, a tad smugly.

This was true. I had seen Emmett around a lot of women in London but he'd never looked at any of them with the mixture of love and awe he reserved just for Rose.

"And you?" I rounded on Alice.

"I was cold" she said, as though that settled the matter.

We got up and wandered to the kitchen where the boys were sheepishly making breakfast. There was no sign of Victoria, thank God. I didn't think I would have been able to hold back. Crow.

The morning was spent hastily packing so we could get back to New Orleans before the traffic backed up. And to have the time to detour a restaurant called "Cracker Barrel", apparently a gourmet haven and the boys' favourite place on earth second only to a place they called "the Swift Hen". It must be pretty special; we'd eaten at some amazing places in London and even I knew that New Orleans was a gourmet mecca.

"So you and I'll ride back together" Edward said to me. "The idiots are going in Emmett's truck and Victoria's got her own car."

Ah Victoria. She had emerged late, again looking like a model in a "relaxed country elegance" fashion shoot in anther perfectly co-ordinated ensemble. I was getting to the point where I could barely look at her.

"Hey sugar" she smiled at Edward. "Ready to get back for mass? Father Mike said they have a priest in from Ireland." She turned to me "of course, you aren't Catholic so you wouldn't know how much a visiting priest can mean. They bring new ideas that can give a whole deeper dimension to your belief."

"Oh darlin' of course she's Catholic!" laughed Rose sweetly. "They met in church, didn't you know? Of course…"she continued, her speech mimicking Victoria's perfectly even down to the breathy vowels, "you weren't in London so you wouldn't know about how much a visiting lover can mean. Being together as adults brings new ideas that can give a whole deeper dimension to your love."

I sniggered quietly, stopping as Victoria, seeing that Edward had turned away, whipped round and fixed me with a look that could curdle milk. God, she was poisonous. She flounced out of the room, making sure to sweep her head so her hair fell in a shining mane. Her gesture was wasted. Edward was examining Jasper's shotgun and missed the whole thing. Ha!

After Victoria left in an obnoxiously loud red Porsche (of course!), I climbed into Edward's Landrover and we set off. Only he would bring a British car back to New Orleans. As we hit the I10 after bumping along a single track road, he turned off the radio an, in an ominous voice said:

"So, what brought you to New Orleans?"

I had two options: lie like a demon or tell the truth. The former would get me nowhere and the latter would be excruciatingly embarrassing and would make me look like a bunny-boiler. Oh bugger it, I thought:

"You."

He exhaled and I realised for the first time that he was as nervous as I was.

"The boys said that but I didn't believe them. I couldn't believe that you'd do that for me. And that you'd stay, knowing what I am."

"Edward, I'm going to say this for the last time. You are a wonderful, caring and gentle man. You have a fucked up family but who hasn't? I see only you, a man who is loved by his friends and is worthy of their respect. I came because I couldn't live without you. When you left, it was as though my life had been whitewashed and all the bright happiness that you had brought was painted over. I existed but I had no joy. I married Toby because I felt that I could at least support him and maybe grow to love him. I was wrong and I regret it. I wrote to him yesterday telling him about you. I owe him that."

"So you'll stay?"

"As long as I can."

His hand stretched across and started stroking my leg, creeping closer and closer to my body. I could feel my breath becoming shallow.

"Edwaard"

"Hush darlin, let me do this." Burrowing under my dress, his hands reached the place where I was both warm and wet. He removed his fingers, leaving me empty, brought them to his lips and sucked them his eyes not leaving mine. I was immediately transported back to London.

"Do you remember the Law Society Dinner?" I started.

"Hell yes, when you came in front of the now Lord Chief Justice? Kept me going for years that memory!"

"You are wicked." I panted. The fingers had returned.

"Oh darlin' you have no idea. Make some noise for me sugar."

"Edward, Edward, Edward!" I cried, feeling the exquisite tension building inside me. Just as I was about to explode, his fingers retreated abruptly. My eyes shot open and focused on an oversized truck which had drawn parallel with us. Emmett's truck. Oh fuck.

From the windows, I could see four laughing faces. Bastards. Resigning myself to yet more frustration, I leaned back in my seat and sulked.

"Darlin'" Edward interrupted my thoughts "at some point, you and I are going to be alone in a bed with no interruptions. And it'll be worth it."

He paused, lowering his voice "I promise you I'll make it worth the wait."

I looked at the determination on his face and that was it; I was lost. I was utterly, in love with Edward. Again.


	22. Live from The Cracker Barrel

**Your reviews are better than buttered biscuits!**

 **Birchey, this one's for you! xxx**

"This is the best restaurant in the world?" I asked, looking around me incredulously.

The mecca of food that was "Cracker Barrel" was housed in a concrete box made to look like a wooden house in a monstrous shopping centre off the I10 highway. Not the most auspicious of starts but things became even more surreal once we entered; it is never a good sign when you have to get to a restaurant through a gift shop, particularly one which appears to specialise in patchwork, Christian memorabilia, old fashioned sweets and items from the TV show "Duck Dynasty". The dining room was odder still; it looked as though someone had been to a fire sale at a turn of the century farm and had stuck every one of their purchases on the walls. Ploughs, random bits of machinery and metal signs offering worming tablets to the discerning farmer were hanging from every flat surface.

The boys had skipped ahead gleefully, practically salivating as they went. I followed behind with the girls. Rose had a look of indulgent amusement on her face; the kind of expression you see when parents watch their children play the part of a sheep in the kindergarten nativity play.

"Watch this" she said, as the boys skidded to a halt in front of the hostesses' desk. They lined up, three fine hunks of masculinity. From our vantage point, I saw Jasper grin slowly at the melting females behind the counter. I had a swift vision of him tipping a non-existent hat to a group of simpering belles at an antebellum barbecue.

"Mornin' ma'am" he said to a large lady who must have been in her sixties but was batting her eyelashes like a teenager.

"Well how are you young men?"

"All the better for seeing you ma'am" Emmett joining in, beaming like the Cheshire cat. The woman practically melted on the spot.

"Oh my!" sighed an elderly woman in front of us. Nudging her companion she said "If I was ten years younger Annie… "

"Seriously? I hissed. "That Southern charm thing works in the South?!"

The girls nodded gravely.

"Works evera' time!" confirmed Alice.

When we had finally detached ourselves from the swarms of wilting women, we sat around a table laden with wooden children's puzzles and I contemplated the menu.

"Is there anything here that isn't deep fried and/or covered with gravy?"

"Nope. And the biscuits'll make you want to slap your mama!" said Emmett triumphantly.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about but tell me," I said "If this is a culinary temple according to you. What exactly is the other place like? _The Swift Hen_?"

"It's really called Chicken Express" explained Rose. "These idiots love it. Thank God there isn't one close to New Orleans or Emmett'd be the size of a house. You think this place is unhealthy? Try deep fried chicken livers with a side order of deep fried pickles, deep fried peppers and deep fried gizzards. You see where I'm goin' with this? Last time we went to Texas, this lunatic planned our entire route around Chicken Express locations."

"Deep fried gizzards?" I said faintly. "Oh Lord!"

"Like eating God's words" said Edward solemnly. He had helped himself to the crayons which were presumably kept for unruly children and had almost finished a picture of a car. It wasn't very good.

"Good gravy, Edward" sighed Rose "How old are you?"

Actually, despite myself, I was enjoying this place. It was full of happy looking groups and I could hear Tammy Wynette crooning over the speakers. I loved that this group, with all their power and wealth, chose to come here, to an eccentric chain restaurant off a motorway. Brilliant.

The food lived up to promise; unhealthy, smothered in sauce and butter and utterly delicious.

"Damn these are good!" I sighed, sinking into my third butter-filled biscuit. Biscuits in the South were apparently some kind of scone. Pairing them with meat started to make more sense. I had been entertaining visions of chocolate chip cookies. Not good. Even better was my discovery of chicken fried steak. Someone in their wisdom had followed up on the idea of battering and deep frying a piece of beef. Seriously: Sounds like hell but utterly delicious; the crunch of crisp batter paired with the melting tenderness of steak. Bring it on.

"Yee haa… we'll make a red-neck of you yet!" laughed Emmett, gleefully.

The girftshop turned out to be shopping heaven. Every corner was crammed with treasures. I knew that I was going too far when I fond myself wondering whether I could sneak a white wooden hen house house as hand luggage on the plane. My mother would love it but realistically I knew that even the most co-operative of airlines would think twice before allowing someone on with an item large enough to house a small family.

Laden down with patchwork and country music CDs and having eaten my own body weight in chicken-fried steak, I was decanted back into the car where I promptly fell asleep, waking up only when we pulled up outside my house. Edward half carried me inside, dropped my bags, and held me close.

"Go to bed darlin' I'm not stayin' but tomorrow you and I are going to hit the town."

"Please stay" I yawned, realising as I said it that I would be spark out in five minutes.

"No, we're going to do things in a proper order. Go to sleep and I'll call you in the morning."

And with that I had to be content. I dragged myself to my bedroom. Weirdly enough, the book I had left on my bedside table was lying on the bed and my rosary beads were on the floor. I picked them up and replaced the volume. "I must be imagining things!" was my last thought. Actually, my very last thought was "a date with Edward: can't wait."

I was dragged back into the sea of oblivion. I slept.


	23. You're never alone with a Strand

**Happy Thanksgiving Y'all! Wherever you are, may you be happy and blessed**.

I woke up when the light started pouring through the poxy cheap curtains which my landlady Miss Irina had claimed were silk. No one was in my room except me. Praise the pigs. For once, I could get up, stretch and wake up in my own good time. The second this happy thought had settled in my mind, the phone rang. Of course.

Any objections immediately vanished when I saw the caller: Edward. My heart started beating faster; All the years I had dreamed about him and now here he was, calling me. I pinched myself just in case.

"Hey" I said wittily. I am never at my best in the mornings.

"Hey darlin', you up?"

"Barely but a couple of pints of coffee and I'll be up and running."

"Hold that thought, I'm taking you out for breakfast. I'll be over in five minutes, that ok?"

I bit away the first answer which sprang to mind on the grounds that it was both unattractive and unsuitable at this time of the morning and settled with the second:

"As long as you're willing to be seen with someone who looks like the living dead? At your own risk be it."

He laughed and hung up. Bloody bollocks, that gave me five minutes to slap on some war paint, find my seducing kit and… I paused… actually turning up for breakfast dressed for a party may not be the brightest idea of the day. The last thing I wanted to do in the harsh morning sun was to look like a raddled old hag making the walk of shame. Settling for jeans and an old King's College hoodie, I skipped out, narrowly missing Miss Irina who appeared to be polishing the doorhandle. Odd but who was I to comment on her proclivities?

"Morning Miss Irina."

"Well hey honey, you back? Enjoy your trip? That lovely friend of yours came by yesterday to drop off your book. I let her in."

Hand on. "What friend?"

"Oh the sweetest girl, fabulous Chanel handbag and the most precious red hair."

Victoria. Fucking hell. What on earth had she been doing?

"Oh I do hope it was alright?" the old bag added insincerely.

My answer was covered by the roar of an approaching car. Oh yes. Edward Cullen, behind the wheel of a Mustang. Galloping pony take me to heaven and back!

Leaving Miss Irina gaping on the doorstep, I hopped in. Even better inside, the warm leather scent of the seats mingled with the Edward smell that was catnip to me. I may have drooled.

"Oh God Edward, what a car. American muscle, nothing better."

"Darlin' there's power under this hood that'll make your toes curl…" looking at me he added, running his fingers casually up the leg of my jeans… "and if that doesn't work, I have another American muscle which might work…"

Yee ha!

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise, but you'll love it I swear!"

Edward navigated his way through the sea of potholes which is St Charles Avenue. The live oaks swayed gently in the morning breeze and the streetcar ambled gently past. The sun was shining and all was certainly extremely well in my world. I sighed, closing my eyes and grinning with the sheer joy of the day.

We parked down in the Quarter and navigated our way through the just-washed streets. All signs of the intense partying which had surely happened the night before had vanished and the bars were readying themselves for a new day of carnage. A few brave souls were hovering around the 24 hour margarita shop which was certainly not going to end well for them.

Steering me down towards Jackson Square, Edward stopped at a familiar sign: "Strand". The coffee shop I'd adored when I'd wandered down on my own after spotting Edward and Victoria in church, was it only a week before? Seemed like a different age and a much better one at that.

Pushing the door open, we walked into the warm café. Welcoming sofas were interspersed with beanbags and oversized cushions. A shelf of dog eared paperbacks invited browsers and a pile of board games lay on a table. I inhaled the rich, roasting coffee scent and felt myself immediately relax. For reasons I couldn't put my finger on, I felt at home here. A few patrons were gossiping quietly in the corner and the tattooed barrista had a massive smile on her face.

"Well hey boss, how are you?"

"Hey Siobhan. Bloody marvelous since you ask. How's your day goin'?"

The girl grinned and nodded, asking me what I wanted and swinging to the mellow sounds of Ella Fitzgerald as she poured what was obviously Edward's standard order. I hadn't associated him with a Quarter devotee but he clearly was.

We installed ourselves on the large, beaten up chesterfield.

"Do you like this place?" Edward leaned over. I couldn't work out why he suddenly looked so vulnerable.

"No" I said. He recoiled as though I'd slapped him so I hastily continued, "I love it."

"Thank God. I modelled it on your London flat. You remember, the one in Chelsea?"

So that's why it looked familiar. I looked carefully around. The leather chesterfield, William Morris covered armchairs, the brick red kilim cushions, the row of empty bottles which had represented my attempts at interior decoration. They were all here.

"I told you" he said "I was ripped up when I left you. I knew it was the right thing to do but that didn't make it any easier. For years I tried to replicate London. I set up this place and called it "Strand" after the main King's College site. I did think of calling it "Reggie's" but that night is a stand out in my mind and I really didn't want to have to adjust my dress every time I came in."

I blushed. The night after the boys had recaptured the stone lion known as "Reggie" from UCL was a high point in my intrepid love life with Edward.

"Anyway. I wanted to see if I could try to help children… men like me…"

"Gorgeous, talented, irresistible?" I said gently.

"No, wounded, broken, damaged. I know, you don't see me like that but I sure as heck see myself in that way. I set up Strand to raise fund for abused children. We fund a safe house down by Gretna and we work with a number of outreach workers. I don't want any child to ever suffer the way I did. All the staff are volunteers, Jasper roasts the coffee in one of his properties in the Warehouse District, Emmett does the numbers and I run the place."

I felt tears start to my eyes.

"Edward Cullen, you are an amazing man. I am so proud to be with you. What you're doing is incredible."

He looked bashful. "I didn't bring you here to show off, I wanted to try to show to you what you meant to me and how much you've been part of my life."

Words weren't enough, I closed the distance between us and taking his face in my hands, I kissed him as though my life depended on it. I didn't even think before I spoke.

"Edward, I love you."

"As I love you. You are my all."

Getting up early was definitely worth it!


	24. British Cynicism meets Southern Charm

Edward loved me; he'd said so. I felt such a bond with the wonderful, vulnerable man in front of me and, miraculously, he seemed to return the affection. This was too good to be true; I knew that sooner or later I was going to wake up and find that the whole thing was an enormous joke.

"You're looking for ways to undermine your happiness aren't you?" asked Edward. Jesus, could he read my thoughts? I must have looked like a stunned mullet because he started laughing.

"You always used to do that, look at me as though I'd descended from the clouds and you were some unworthy mortal. I have feet of clay you know." He laughed lounder "we really are peas in a pod you and I darlin', neither of us believes that we deserve love." He lowered his voice "maybe I can start by worshipping your body inch by inch?" I was almost glowing with desire. The things this man could do with his voice. And other parts of his anatomy my less-pure self added…

"Well hey boss man, got you a lady friend?" The tattooed barista had made her way over and was clearing a nearby table. Even the mugs looked like the fabulous cobalt blue and sunflower yellow Provencal china I'd had in London. Edward had really remembered every detail of my life. My doubts in his story slid away like ice in the hot sun.

"This is the girl I lost through my own idiocy," said Edward. The woman clearly knew the story as she nodded sagely.

"Well, all I can say is: praise the pigs that you found her before that catty red-head got her claws in. Not gonna lie precious, she was a real piece of work when your back was turned. You two take your time you hear? I'm just going to wander back to my machine and lay low!"

The pause had given me time to recollect something that had been nagging at the back of my mind regarding said ginger girl.

"Edward, the weirdest thing happened. When I got back, the landlady of my overpriced slum, Miss Irina, told me that Victoria had been to drop off a book and she'd let her in. Firstly, there was no book and secondly I have the oddest feeling that she's been through my things."

Edward looked puzzled. "Why on God's green earth would she want to do that?"

I looked at him, a feeling I hadn't experienced for seventeen years coming back as I looked at him in fond frustration.

"You never see what women really think of you do you? Victoria is head over heels in love with you or at least in love with the idea of being part of your world. This converting to Catholicism? My guess is that it's an excuse to be near you. She is not a nice girl Edward, the way she speaks to Alice is deserving of a bloody good slap."

He started to deny my accusation but I could see the cogs whirring in his brain and he nodded. Edward had always looked for the best in people and had one of the brightest legal brains I had ever encountered but gosh he could be blind when it came to judging character. He needed a healthy dose of British cynicism to add to all that Southern charm!

"Yup…" he said finally "you may well be on to something there. She had a thing for Emmett; then when he met Rose, she moved on to Jasper. With Emmett she was all about cars and hunting, with Jasper they spent hours talking about history. And with me…" he tailed off. "Since London, I found a lot of comfort in the church. I know I'm not the most Godly of men but my religion is part of my being. When I'm in church, I feel as though I am home."

I nodded, sharing his views. I was about to say something when my Blackberry vibrated, distracting me. I looked at the caller. Toby, now what were the odds of my ex-husband calling as I was canoodling with the love of my life? Oh the irony! I answered the call.

"Hullo Toby."

"Hullo yourself. I got your e-mail about Edward. I'm happy for you. I've been out a couple of times with someone too. Actually you know her, Emily from work. It's early days but fingers crossed."

"Toby, I am so pleased for you" my voice was full of genuine warmth. I had spent a lot of my life with this man and I wished him nothing but happiness.

"But that's not why I'm calling" he continued and I could hear the seriousness in his voice. "I need to tell you that I had the oddest message at work of all places. Someone left a message with my secretary claiming that you had been fooling around with another man for years. The person was pretty careful to dictate full details. Seriously, with my secretary, who immediately told the whole office?"

"God no!" I cried "I never even looked at another man when we were married. And I told you about Edward and that was after we split up."

"I know you did and I never doubted you for an instant but I wanted to hear it from you. I don't know who you've offended but they are going to serious lengths to damage your reputation."

"What about the office?"

"Bollocks to them. They'll forget it in a few weeks when someone gets caught shagging in the stationary cupboard again..." he laughed. He was a top man and deserved every joy with his Emily. We exchanged a few pleasantries and I hung up. Turning to Edward, I asked,

"Did you hear that?"

"I did darlin'"

"Want to put money on it being Victoria? She must have gone through my case. And she asked so many questions about me and, like a fool, I gave her everything apart from my bra size." I put my head in my hands.

"34C" said Edward immediately. My head shot up. How on earth?

"I remember everything about you. I told you sugar. Now calm down, we'll fix this."

We left the coffee shop and wandered along Royal Street. Although I normally could have been drawn to the overpriced antique shops like a magnet, I was in such a funk that even the appeal of a pair of genuine duelling pistols failed to keep my attention. Edward pulled me along with one hand, making call after call with his other. Call me pathetic but the sight of him taking control had me weak at the knees. I remembered the way that he had total command in the bedroom and my eyes started to glaze with lust. Stop, stop! My reputation was being destroyed by the evil ginger hag and all I could think of was Edward's eyes burning into me as he commanded me to undress.

"What are you thinking about?" the man himself broke into my daydreams. I knew that I had turned an unattractive fire-engine red. He leaned down to my ear.

"As if I need to ask; you naughty, naughty girl. All in good time" and kissing me soundly, he continued our march up to Canal Street.

Edward's house was completely unexpected. It was hidden away down on State Street and looked a lot less grand than some of the portico-ed wonders which flanked it. It had a deep front porch which seemed to welcome you in. The door opened into an enormous hall with a black and white floor which seemed to fade away into the distance where it met a fabulous double staircase leading up to a galleried second floor.

"Jesus" I breathed as Edward opened the door.

"Oh darlin' I'm goin' to do some unholy things to you!" he replied, sweeping me up into his arms and carrying me over the threshold.

"Hoy!" I protested unromantically "put me down!"

"Not a hope in hell. You're mine, I told you. I'm just practising for the real thing." He looked down into my face, eyes fiery with love. "And the real thing will come let me tell you. There is no way in hell I'm ever goin' to let you go." He bent down and kissed the very life out of me. Lowering me to the ground, he kicked the door closed with one foot. His hands were roaming all over my body, awakening feelings which had been dormant for years and making me feel loved, alive and wild with lust.

"Edward I can't wait" I panted.

"''Fraid you're goin' to have to darlin', the boys are here. We need a plan." Straightening my clothes, he carefully smoothed my hair before kissing me gently.

"We will have time. All the time we need and then some, but for now we need to strategize."

He led me though a pair of double doors into the library of my dreams. Shelf after shelf of books covered ever wall of the room. A massive fireplace stood empty but held the promise of many happy winter's days. The heavy red curtains blended with the honey glow of the wooden shelves, each trimmed with green leather and the deep tan leather armchairs. I would die happy in this room.

Jasper was lounging in an armchair, booted foot on one knee, stroking the silky ears of a Red Setter. Alice was leaning against his knee. Now there was a turn up for the books! Emmett was pretending to read something but really using the book to conceal his exploration of Rosalie's right breast. Pervert.

"Well boys" announced Edward "first meetin' of the War Cabinet is in session. Plans please? "

And so it started… Victoria was finished.


	25. The Plot Thickens

The Anti-Victoria War Council was deep in debate in Edward's library. Suggestions of appropriate methods of revenge ranged from public humiliation (Alice) to financial ruin (Emmett). I was listening with half an ear as his suggestions became increasingly complex when my Blackberry started vibrating with e-mail alerts. Idly, I pulled the device and started scrolling down the list.

"Holy fucking hell!" I bellowed holding out my Blackberry to Edward. He scanned the e-mail and his face transformed into a mask of fury.

"She has gone way too far." He said decisively. "Whatever we do to her can't be bad enough."

"What, what, what?" begged Emmett. "Tell me."

In a voice tense with rage, Edward read out the e-mail informing me that I was under investigation by my bank for removing client data without permission. A hearing would be held, to which I could bring representation, and I was hereby informed that the penalties included termination of my license, being pursued for damages or imprisonment for up to six months if damage to either company or clients could be proven.

"Well fuck me" said Rose. Not eloquent but certainly heartfelt. "Did you?" she asked bluntly.

"I did!" She took a sharp intake of breath and shook her head. I continued "but only because I was told to. My boss said I should print out details so I could contact clients and inform them of arrangements in my absence."

Edward breathed deeply. "Then we're all good. You just need to prove it. Where are the documents now?"

"In my room somewhere…" my voice tailed off as realization hit me like a brick. "She took them didn't she?" I said slowly, looking around the room. Everyone nodded.

"Yup" said Jasper "that'd be my guess."

"Well then I'm buggered. They could be anywhere and I 'll be done for losing confidential information on top of the rest." Prison, Jesus. One of my greatest fears was of being locked up. Solitary confinement I could deal with but the thought of being stuck in a room with one person and unable to escape was my idea of hell. Boarding school had a lot to answer for.

"Now listen" Emmett looked thoughtful. "The solution is obvious. You work for a bank? That means that every call in or out is recorded for compliance. The call instructing you to contact clients will have been logged. The hearing will be a formality and the bigger question is how we deal with this in a way which will cause maximum distress for Victoria."

"We are assuming it's her… maybe it was someone else…" I began weakly.

"Darlin' you are as dumb as a doornail if you believe the horseshit you're peddling" snapped Rose. Emmett nodded.

"Got it…" said Edward "We go over, attend the hearing, file a case in London and then come back and sue for defamation here. We can prove she entered your flat if Miss Irina co-operates and I'm pretty sure I can make that happen. I think we can safely assume that she was behind the anonymous accusations so generously shared with your ex-husband's colleagues and Toby's bank should have a log of the call she no doubt made to his secretary. "

"Useless to bother filing in Louisiana" Jasper replied "maximum fine is five hundred bucks. Victoria spends more than that on those horrid plastic nails she wears. Damn those things are grim, like hens' claws."

Alice looked at her own neat fingers with a touch of smugness.

"And up to six months in prison don't forget!" Edward told him, a devious grin on his face.

"And the public humiliation" Rose chipped in. "The Times Picayune will definitely cover it."

"On that note," Alice interrupted. "Am I the only one to notice that Victoria has suddenly acquired money? She's gone from K-Mart to Karl Lagerfeld almost overnight and I swear she's had two new cars this year already. I know that there's no family money. Not that it would matter if she wasn't just so hoity toity, bless her heart! I happen to know for a fact that her momma lived in a double-wide trailer up near Basille, met her daddy in a bar when he was on a huntin' trip and trapped him into marriage. You'd never have known it to meet her, she behaved like the Queen of England. Not a good bone in her body."

"Well that explains a lot" said Rose "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree!"

"She had me fooled" said Edward sadly. "I really did believe that she was sincere about convertin'. What a thing to pretend." He shook his head and shrugged. Was I shallow for noticing the way that his muscular shoulders stretched the thin cotton of his shirt? I think not.

"Oh she is good, son" said Emmett "She had me thinking that she was the perfect red-neck princess! Right up my alley. Didn't take long to see through it but I was fooled for a while there. Thank God I found me the perfect woman." He added quickly, turning to Rose.

"Oh darlin' you callin' me a red-neck, you sugar tongued devil?" she drawled, throwing a cushion at him with surprising speed and, based on his hurt expression, impressive power. He retaliated by lunging at her.

"Ok you two, knock it off before you lower the moral tone and scare my dogs! Emmett, you have a look at her finances. Jasper, you get your I.T. guys looking and see what you can find." Edward ordered

"Yes Sir!" Jasper replied, raising his hand in mock salute. In return, Edward raised a single finger.

"Well now who's lowerin' the tone Mr Prim and Proper?" asked Rose, smiling. "And what will you be doin' as part of this hey?"

"Well, we'll be going to London, of course" replied Edward, looking straight at me and making my breath catch with anticipation. "And more to the point, you're not spending another night under Miss Irina's roof. You're movin' in with me."

"Good grief! Heavy handed much?" I asked "and my Mr Cullen, what will the neighbours say?" I added, pretending to fan myself and gazing at him under my eyelashes.

"Well fiddle de dee" he answered "we'll just have to find out!"

After a very entertaining trip back to collect my things which included receiving a signed confession after veiled and not-so veiled threats of police involvement for Miss Irina's complicity in Victoria's snooping, and the concealment of three large prawns in the curtain rod which would certainly cause some fun in the not too distant future, we sat in Edward's massive dining room eating takeaway Po'Boys on what looked like Sevres china.

Sitting next to Edward and taking advantage in the others' involvement in a heated argument about whether Victoria's father was gullible or "dumb as a box of rocks" as Rose put it, I turned to Edward.

"I can't ask you to come over to London and do all this for me."

"You don't have to" he answered simply "I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I'm staying with you. At the risk of tootin' my own horn, I am a damn good lawyer and you aren't going to walk into the lion's den unarmed."

I nodded, reaching for his hand under the table. I stroked his thigh, feeling the strength of his muscles through his jeans. It was all I could do not to rip his clothes off on the spot.

"And" he whispered, his index finger stroking the inside of my palm and making me melt, "imagine a few nights alone in those big four poster beds at Claridges' Hotel. Darlin' the things I will do to you…"

"Quit groping you two! Focus!" shouted Emmett, backing up his point with a well-aimed gherkin.

I tore myself away from Edward's gaze, blushing like a lunatic to see the four idiots grinning like fools.

"Well it is a pleasure to see you smiling again. " Jasper said to Edward. Raising his glass, he added, "Give our regards to London and come home soon!"

So it was official. London it was.

Victoria had no idea of the fury she had just unleashed but she was about to find out. And, I would have Edward alone in the city where we had first fallen in love. I couldn't wait to get on that plane.


	26. Back in London

Edward and London had been an intoxicating combination the first time around but the second time was the most exhilarating experience of my life. The vibrant city fitted him like a glove fits a hand. Seeing him back on the streets that we'd walked together seventeen or more years ago was discombobulating; Edward was the same man that he was in Louisiana but the merging of my memories and his present self was deeply disorientating.

When we had last been together, we had both been (I thought) cash-strapped students and every new experience had been a thrill. We had managed to live the life on a show-string budget. Admittedly, we'd never scrimped but I for one had graduated with horrendous debts which I had worked off in the grimmest all-night restaurant in London (imagine illegal immigrants, chefs dealing coke out of the kitchen, food which had developed its own colonies of bacteria and patrons who were either drunk, stoned or both and you'd have a perfect picture of life at Up All Night.) Now, I had money and Edward was clearly never going to starve so it was five stars all the way and he'd already booked a suite at Claridge's. It was like waking up in the middle of your most extravagant dream and slowly realising that it was a reality.

We'd arrived at the tired, third world airport which is Heathrow at the crack of dawn, had walked along seemingly endless corridors, past broken travellators and had finally faced the interrogation of the cheerless immigration staff. Leaving a balmy Louisiana spring and being plunged straight into the arctic gales of Britain was enough of a shock to make me want to crawl whimpering into a warm bed and never come out. Edward was made of sterner stuff.

"Right. No time to waste. We're going to drop our bags, have a bit of a shower and go to eleven o'clock mass at Farm Street then hit The Grenadier for a couple of Bloody Mary's and the Sunday papers to get us back on track."

I sighed with happiness. The Church of the Immaculate Conception at Farm Street in Mayfair was the scene of our first meeting. They did a fabulous Latin mass; not quite as formal at St Patrick's in New Orleans but with glorious music. The Grenadier, a pub in Belgravia was one of our old haunts. Sweetly old fashioned, the tiny interior was decorated in dark wood and beams were hung with random jugs and pots. Most importantly, the Bloody Mary's were a decadent mixture of sherry, vodka and pungent, spicy tomato juice; bloody marvellous. It was the perfect place for a Sunday.

You know that feeling, when you arrive in a hotel and it is as though the staff is preventing you from just collapsing on the bed? Claridge's pride themselves on their service but frankly all I wanted was for the terribly sweet manager to bugger off so I could wrap myself up in the marshmallow softness of the eiderdown and sleep for days. Preferably with a naked Edward. My dreams would have to wait though…

"Don't even THINK of going to sleep!" Edward bellowed, "You'll never wake up! Get up and get in the shower!"

"Will you come with me?" I asked in what I hoped were seductive tones.

"No way darlin', I'm not into necrophilia and you, my angel, are like the walking dead. Wake your pretty self up and let's get goin' before we wake up on Friday wondering where the hell the week went!"

He had a good point. I knew from past experience that giving in to your body clock was a mistake. Years ago, I'd done that on a trip to Sao Paolo with the net result of falling asleep during my presentation to Banco do Brasil. Surprisingly enough we didn't get their business but Jacob, the MD did very kindly take a picture of me, head down on the conference table, mouth wide open and drooling slightly on my laptop as "future ammunition." I must find out where that was one day…

The powerful jets of the shower revived me. The bathroom was a wonder of art deco chrome and mirrors but the technology was bang out of the twenty first century. Feeling like a new woman, I hastily dressed and walked out and through the doors which led to the sitting room where I saw… a God. Edward, dressed in a dark blue suit which had, from its cut, been made down the road in Saville Row. The waisted jacket accentuated his broad shoulders and made him look taller than his already impressive height. I was humbled in his presence and felt myself shrinking into my shell of self-doubt. Edward crossed the room and put his hands on my shoulders. Looking me in the eye, his words made my heart soar:

"You're doing it again. Thinking that you are less than you are. You are the most incredible woman, a goddess in my eyes and I will worship you from head to toe." He paused and I smiled up at him, expecting him to start making good on his promise. "But not now!" he continued briskly. "Get your thoughts on God and let's go!"

Bugger. Thwarted.

The day zipped by, punctuated with conversations which began "do you remember?" and ended in bouts of laughter. Through the haze of lust and love, I realised that this was a deliberate ploy on Edward's part to keep my mind off my "trial" the next day. Every time my thoughts strayed to my misconduct interview, I was consumed with anger against Victoria for being such an evil crow. I was torn between wishing her in hell being prodded with hot pokers by a crowd of devils and the knowledge that I would be wracked with guilt if our plans for revenge came off. Sitting with Edward on the Embankment and watching the sun setting over the pagoda in Battersea Park, I tried to put my feelings into words:

"I know that Victoria deserves all that's coming to her…" I began, faltering as I tried and failed to find a way of describing my thoughts without using the phrase "psycho bitch from hell". "Here's the thing. In a way, she helped us out."

"How on earth do you work that out?" demanded Edward.

"Weeell, without her, we wouldn't have been in London. At the risk of sounding like a total hippie, this trip is healing. I spent so long ripping myself apart and haunting the places we'd gone together. I know that it sounds pathetic…" I tailed off.

"No. It sounds right. You came to find me, I spent years desperately re-imagining the past and here we are. We can't spend a lifetime together which starts with another's downfall, no matter how richly deserved it might be."

I looked at this wonderful man. Everything that came out of his mouth resonated with my own thoughts. As I was contemplating this synchronicity, Edward's phone vibrated. My serenity was shattered by his shouts:

"You are fuckin' kidding me? Holy hell it couldn't be better if the National Enquirer had written it? You sure?" he paused and I desperately tried and failed to hear the animated response. "Jasper, you're a prince. Call you later!"

I was agog and didn't have to wait long to be put out of my agony.

"Victoria has a bit of a secret" he announced "she is ... shall we say… having relations with a rather well known tele- Evangelist! A man of the cloth no less, who prides himself on homespun family values and who raised at least sixty million dollars last year to fund his mission. Seriously darlin' you couldn't make this up!"

"Who?" I gasped. "Tell all!"

"No less than the Reverend Caius. He is truly a greasy looking weasel with the oiliest looking pompadour this side of Elvis. He sets himself up as a pillar of the New Messiah super-Church, staunch family man and stalwart fighter against corrupt modern values. All of which said values have apparently promoted whilst sharin' the love and the cash of his flock with Miss Vicky. Yeeee ha!"

So saying, Edward grabbed me by the waist and waltzed me down the Embankment, chanting "and Jasper has pictures!" as we barged our way past startled passer-bys. Slowing to a halt, he held me close.

"Tomorrow we will utterly vanquish your bank people" he whispered "forget Victoria and vengeance. I will freely admit that I was completely sucked into her story but I'm no longer under any illusions. We don't need to waste our energy plottin' though; this girl has hitched herself well and truly to the wrong star; Jasper said his guys were competing for shots with at least two other photographers and the good reverend has enemies enough. When this story breaks, it'll sweep everything else off the front pages. And when it is over… we have no more obstacles. You'll be mine" he held my left hand, his fingers running speculatively over my ring finger. "Any objections?"

"None!" I managed through my rising tears. I had wished upon wish to be back with Edward but the reality surpassed any hope.

Edward's arm around me, we walked down the Embankment. The lights strung out along Albert Bridge reflected in the dark depths of the River Thames like precious jewels. I couldn't find words to articulate the wellspring of joy within me. I felt as though I was choking with happiness. Safe under Edward's arm, walking along my favourite path in the world, I felt peace, hope and, for the first time in years, a conviction that I was where I should be.

Edward looked down at me, "home?" he asked.

"Home" I replied. Hailing a passing black cab, we bundled in and made our way back to the hotel.

As we sped through Chelsea, I thought about the conflict which would surely come during tomorrow's interrogation. The process held no fears for me and I relished the coming arguments, knowing that I had answers to every charge: thanks to Edward, I had a plan. Victoria could create her own chaos, my focus was on the glorious man next to me and, amazingly his was on me.

Back at Claridge's , I collapsed onto the bed, luxuriating in the satiny sheets and sinking into the downy softness of the bed. My intention earlier in the day had been to seduce Edward, willing or not but within minutes I was spark out. My last thoughts were a combination of frustration, glee about the revelations and utter contentment. I woke briefly in the night, feeling Edward's arms around me. Louisiana or London, I was exactly where I wanted to be; with him.

 **Reviews are as joyously received as a crisp afternoon in the sun of Sloane Square! Thank you all for your graciousness.**


	27. On Albert Bridge

God, Edward in a pin striped suit was a sight to behold. I found myself focusing on the flash of skin under the white of his cuffs and watching his hands, remembering the pleasure that his long fingers could give rather than listening to the Head of Compliance droning on. We were in the massive Swissie Bank board room. My heels were sinking into the plush carpet and I couldn't resist bouncing slightly on the ridiculously overpriced ergonomic chairs. A large screen at the end of the room showed a lawyer sitting in an identical office in Zurich. My bank was nothing if not thorough. Thank God that I had Edward. I tuned back in.

"And I would ask you to play the recordings of the 22nd between my client and her direct manager." Edward was saying.

Within seconds, the room echoed with the frustrated voice of Mike, my manager, telling me to "take as much time as I needed" and to "get a grip". Sympathy had never been his strong point. Thankfully, we all listed attentively as he instructed me to print out the client details immediately and start letting the "poor bastards know that you're leaving them in the lurch."

"Hardly a response that an employee undergoing severe emotional trauma would wish to hear" commented Edward dryly. We then listened in fascinated horror as Victoria's voice boomed out from the speakers, firstly informing the HR department of my behavior and then, in a recording from Toby's office, spilling a tissue of lies about my "immoral" behavior during our marriage. Once the voice stopped, a deafening silence filled the room. I was beetroot with mortification. Edward smiled at me reassuringly and passed a sheath of papers to the assembled company.

"Here are copies of a sworn affidavit from Ms Irina Volutrini in which she describes how Ms Victoria Spence entered my client's apartment without permission and removed the client documents in question. Ms Spence was then responsible for the calls we have listened to. Based on our evidence, we can agree that my client is absolutely blameless in this matter and is furthermore a victim of harassment by Ms Spence. We will be filing a separate libel claim for which she will be liable for prosecution in both London and Louisiana." Edward sat down.

It took my employers approximately three minutes to reach their verdict; I was exonerated of all blame and they were apparently dying to have me back. "Not going to happen" I thought. The position I had fought so hard for no longer held any interest for me. I wanted a change. Maybe bringing my banking experience to Edward's charity coffee chain? Anything but getting back onto the City treadmill! Making vague promises to "think about it" we left the office.

The second I was out of the building, I turned to Edward and kissed him soundly. "You are my total hero" I said quietly. "Let me show you how grateful I am." Without a word, he hailed a taxi and kissed me all the way back to Claridge's.

We walked swiftly across the marble lobby, standing in silence as the liftman drew the brass grill over the old fashioned lift. I was acutely aware of Edward's presence; the warmth of his body was burning through my own. At a glacial pace, we clunked up to the floor, anticipation building with every creak of the lift and raced along the deep carpets of the corridor. Fumbling with the key, Edward opened the door and we stumbled in.

"I'm going to make love to you." He gasped. "But now I want you so badly that I just have to be inside you. I love you, I always will. Can I show you?"

I didn't answer but unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it. Shrugging off my shirt, I stood before him in what I secretly called my "battle kit" – corset, suspenders, stockings. He caught his breath, threw of his suit and pulled me to him. Ripping off my knickers he plunged inside me, making me cry out with joy and passion.

There was no tenderness to our meeting, just sheer, needy desire. He thrust in and out of me, lifting my legs over his shoulders so he could sink deeper inside me. Occasionally he would still himself and bend down to kiss me before pulling out leaving me feeling empty, only to push back in, filling me up. The room was silent, all I could hear was Edward and all I could feel was his body, joining mine. The pleasure built, built, built, coiling inside me. I felt as though I was just a core of nerves. Every thought was being forced out of my mind and replaced by Edward, his body, his scent.

"I love you!" he cried collapsing onto me and I joined him, spiraling up, up, up in a cycle of pleasure. Panting we lay together. I gently raised myself and kissed his shoulder before collapsing down again. We had connected both physically and spiritually.

"Girl, you have worn me out. We should be in meetin's together more often!" he groaned. I stroked his damp chest, feeling the planes of his muscles and running my fingers through the sparse hair. I felt closer to him than I had ever felt with any other human being. He was the centre of my world. Contented, I slept.

When I woke up, it was dark and I was alone. Edward was silhouetted against the window, fully dressed. He turned and smiled at me,

"Get up lazy bones, we're going for a walk."

Half an hour later, we were walking along Sydney Street towards the lights of Albert Bridge. The wedding cake structure rose blacky against the dusky sky and the strings of fairy lights were shimmering in the breeze. We paused half way along the bridge and leaned on the parapet, gazing down at the inky waters of the Thames. Edward wrapped his arms around my body and held me close before stepping away. I watched the sparking lights surrounding the pagoda in Battersea Park and remembered swimming in the lake. I had felt total contentment then and I felt it again now.

"Darlin'" Edward said over my shoulder "I love you. I have loved you for years and I promise I will love you for the rest of my days. I know that I messed up and we've wasted so long. Please can we not waste any longer? Marry me."

I turned to see him kneeling and holding out a ring, the stones reflected the lights of Albert Bridge and seemed to contain a life of their own. Behind him, the lights danced in the wind and the headlights of cars along the Embankment lit up the trees in the gardens. The roar of London seemed to recede and all I could hear was the sound of my breathing. I didn't even have to think.

"Yes" I answered, and then ruined the whole moment by blurting out; "get up before you ruin your gorgeous clothes!" Rising and laughing triumphantly, he picked me up and swung me round. Putting the ring on my finger, he kissed my hand.

"I want you to be with me in Louisiana. Can you do that?" I nodded and he continued "I also know that you need to finalise your divorce. In my deepest dreams, I always hoped we'd marry at Farm Street or St Patrick's but... "

"We can" I said. "I was married in a registry office, Toby isn't Catholic. And he'd been married before. We can get an annulment. It doesn't change that I was his wife but it will mean we can have a clean start."

Edward gazed at me, utter joy shining out of his eyes.

"Really?" I nodded. I knew this to be a fact. Not to be presumptuous but I had spent time looking into annulment in the unlikely hope that a miracle would happen.

Tucking my hand in his pocket, Edward turned towards Chelsea and we walked back slowly along the London streets.

"Then London or Louisiana?" he asked.

"Wherever you are. I don't care" I answered. The only thing I wanted in the world was to be with Edward. Location was irrelevant.

Smiling at each other, we wandered back to the hotel.


End file.
